


Exceptions

by NeedPseudonym



Series: Pride and Prejudice [1]
Category: Bride and Prejudice (2004), Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice (TV 1980), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Courting Rituals, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Domestic, Drama & Romance, Engagement, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Frustration, Gen, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Historical, International Fanworks Day 2021, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Male-Female Friendship, Matchmaking, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-Break Up, Pride and Prejudice References, Regency Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Widowed, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedPseudonym/pseuds/NeedPseudonym
Summary: When Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam enlists the help of the newly widowed and slightly eccentric Lady Diana Herbert to help her future niece, Elizabeth Bennet, transition into London society, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam quickly realises that eight years is not enough time to erase feelings as powerful as theirs.Regency Era fic, cross-posting from ff.net. (Part 1 of 3)Reviewed as "beautifully executed plot", "heart wrenching" with an "appealing and loveable" OC!Colonel Fitzwilliam/OC, Elizabeth/Darcy
Relationships: Colonel Fitzwilliam (Pride and Prejudice)/Original Female Character(s), Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley
Series: Pride and Prejudice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113332
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46
Collections: Focus on Female Characters, Jane_Austen





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just to say this is a story I wrote quite a few years ago on FF.Net and as such is being reworked (a little) as I go along here. I will attempt to edit it a little as I repost but for the most part may leave it as it is. My knowledge of history was not as good then as it is now so while I will try and edit out mistakes as and when I see then, please be generous with my faults! And I hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I enjoy(ed) writing it.

“Your fiancé is delightful, William,” said Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam quietly, smiling at her nephew who was entranced by the vision of Elizabeth Bennet as she played the pianoforte after dinner. “Richard tells me you have a fondness for her playing.”

Darcy merely smiled, raising his cup of coffee to his lips and sipping it absently, his eyes never straying from his bride-to-be’s form. Next to her, his sister looked at her with equal adoration, turning pages and conversing with her softly. If he could have the vision of the two most important people in his life together thus burned into his mind, he would have had it done in a heartbeat.

“However,” his aunt was still speaking. “There is the matter of London.”

“London?” Darcy reluctantly tore his gaze away from the ladies and looked at his aunt, a slight frown forming on his features. “What of it, aunt?”

“You will be spending the season there, will you not, after the wedding?”

Darcy grimaced. “Pemberley would be a much better option, and I know El- Miss Bennet would prefer it.”

“Be that as it may,” his aunt’s lips twitched at his slip. “You will want to introduce her to society, will you not?”

“The _ton_ will rip her to shreds, Alexandra,” said Lord Henry Fitzwilliam, who had till now remained silent as he enjoyed his future niece’s playing. “We know what they are like. Perhaps it would be best if they went to Pemberley directly after and stayed there.”

“William has always been popular in society, dear, and I will not have his fiancé labelled a mercenary simply because her circumstances are not suited to your sister’s definition of what a future Darcy should be,” said Lady Fitzwilliam, her tone firm. “You will introduce Miss Elizabeth to society after your wedding, William, and that is final. She is a lovely girl, and there are many worthwhile people of appropriate standing that would love her as we do. You have three months to prepare her, do you not?”

“She is a country girl with a sharp wit and a soft heart,” Lord Fitzwilliam shook his head. “They will break her spirit. No young woman wants to hear the things they’ll say about her.”

“She will have the public affection of her husband’s family, and that is all that she will need,” said Lady Fitzwilliam. “Really, you men make London sound much more horrifying than it is!”

“What are you whispering about, aunt?” came Georgiana’s sweet voice. There was a lull in Elizabeth’s playing, and Darcy caught her looking at them suspiciously as she searched through the music collection for something else to play. At his look, however, she put the music down and accompanied Georgiana closer to where her family sat. “It is rude to speak when one is playing,” continued the younger girl, chiding her brother as she sat by him.

Elizabeth smiled at her future sister’s teasing tone, causing Darcy to smile and Lady Fitzwilliam to look at her husband in triumph, as if displaying the extent of Elizabeth’s positive effect on her family. The earl, however, still looked unconvinced, and answered Georgiana’s question. “We were discussing the plans of Miss Bennet and your brother, dear, after the wedding. They will stay in London, you know.”

“They will?” Georgiana looked surprised. “Will you not want to go to Pemberley directly, brother?”

Darcy shrugged. “It will be as Miss Elizabeth wishes, of course.”

Elizabeth smiled as all eyes turned to her. “You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by putting me in such a spot between your relations,” she said lightly. Her dark eyes sparkled when her fiancé looked at her, the ghost of a smile still hovering about his lips. “Naturally, I mean to stand by my promise of making you practice to be sociable. I have never experienced London in the season, and I confess I am curious to see what the _ton_ really is like.”

“Its an experience you are better off without, my dear,” the earl shook his head.

“Nonsense. You will take callers with me and attend our dinner before the beginning of the season when you come to London for your trousseau, my dear Miss Elizabeth, and you can form your acquaintance there so that you may be slightly more familiar with the _ton_ after your wedding,” said Lady Fitzwilliam, waving away her nephew and husband’s worries. Darcy, knowing when he was beaten, merely stayed silent the rest of the evening, leaving Elizabeth blissfully unaware of his worry.

**!!**

“She needs more guidance than you can provide her with, Alexandra, and you know that,” said Lord Fitzwilliam wearily. “Richard, explain to your mother that she is going to put that girl through unnecessary pain.”

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam looked up from the game of chess he was playing with his older brother and raised an eyebrow at his father. “My dear sir, you are asking _me_ to argue with Lady Fitzwilliam? Even my military prowess does not lend me the courage to do such a thing.”

Viscount Henry Fitzwilliam sniggered opposite him, winking at his younger brother as he joined in the conversation. “Indeed, Father, I fail to understand your motive, throwing your son into the path of a far more vicious adversary than Bonaparte himself.”

“Hush, you insolent boys,” reprimanded Lady Fitzwilliam, though her lips twitched as she continued writing her letter. “Your mother is no fool –”

“Its clear where we get our intelligence from, then,” muttered the viscount, causing the colonel to guffaw and his father to throw him a dirty look.

“- and as such I have taken the liberty of inviting a dear friend to the dinner next week,” finished Lady Fitzwilliam, as if her son hadn’t spoken at all.

“More of the _ton_?” inquired Lord Fitzwilliam.

“There is a dinner next week?” asked Henry in confusion. The colonel rolled his eyes.

Lady Fitzwilliam ignored her sons and turned to her husband. “Do be reasonable, my dear, that girl is stronger than we give her credit for if she has caused my nephew to smile in one evening more than I have seen him do so in years.” Richard nodded at that, remembering the effect of Miss Bennet on his cousin and close friend before and after his failed first proposal in Kent. “Nevertheless, I do see your point," continued Lady Fitzwilliam. "London society can be cruel, and William has caused quite a stir. When the banns were read, Lady Edith wrote to me and said some foolish girl actually gasped out loud. Hopefully, the dinner will change that.”

“Pray tell us, Madam,” asked the Colonel curiously. “Who is this friend you speak of?”

Lady Fitzwilliam waved away his question. “Never you mind, Richard, but both of you are expected to be in attendance. And dear Emily as well, Henry,” she added, and the viscount nodded in acquiesce. “She will love Miss Elizabeth, I am sure.”

“I look forward to meeting this elusive lady myself,” confessed the viscount. “You make Darcy sound like a man bewitched, Richard.”

“Indeed, I shouldn’t be surprised if he was,” said Richard, ignoring the disapproving look his mother threw his way. “He has the good fortune to marry for love without being concerned for money, which is the only failing I could see in Miss Elizabeth.”

“She is a charming girl,” agreed Lord Fitzwilliam. The viscount looked a little uncomfortable at his brother’s words, but his father ignored them. “Perhaps a bit more headstrong than we are used to, but I suppose to manage Darcy she must be.”

“I think she will fit in nicely,” said his wife, sealing her letter and ringing the bell to signal for tea. “Now tell me, dear Henry, how is my little granddaughter doing?”

The family lapsed into casual conversation after that, and it was only when Richard was packing up the chess set that his eyes went to the letter his mother had been writing earlier and he began to wonder once more who it was that she seemed to be relying on to solve their problems.


	2. Chapter 2

“Darcy, my good man, lovely to see you again,” greeted Viscount Henry as his cousin stepped through the doors of the house. They shook hands and the viscount led him towards the sitting room. “You are incredibly punctual, cousin, I had only just arrived myself.”

“It is good to see you, Henry,” said Darcy in response, clapping his cousin on the back as they entered the large room. “Is your family here?”

“Aye, Emily and the babe are upstairs, she felt the need to rest after the journey and put the child to sleep,” there was sparkle in his eye as the viscount spoke of his wife and daughter, being one of the fortunate men of Darcy’s knowing who had married for love, though Emily Davenport had had a sizeable fortune as well. Darcy wondered if he looked like that when he spoke of Elizabeth, but a booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The man of the hour!” Richard appeared before him, a wide smile on his face as he led Lady Fitzwilliam towards his cousin. “I congratulate you, William, in a tone that I am sure my letter did no justice to. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, indeed!”

Darcy smiled one of his rare smiles and accepted his cousin’s warm congratulations, since they had not met since the eventful time at Rosings. “Thank you, Richard. You are well, I hope?”

“Very well!” Richard practically dragged Darcy over to the side of the room, intent of teasing his cousin as much as he could, however Darcy was saved as the sitting room door opened once more and Emily Fitzwilliam _née_ Davenport walked in, smiling and followed by none other than his sister and his fiancé, who had both decided to make the journey from Hertfordshire together since Georgiana had been staying at Netherfield since the announcement of the engagement. Following them were the two that Darcy had specifically procured an invitation for: Mr. Bingley and his betrothed, the elder Miss Bennet, who no doubt looked angelic with her gentle features. However, it was Elizabeth’s bright eyes and smile that Darcy had been dreaming of, though he had seen her only the night before. The realization that those eyes and smiles were now for him and him alone caused a warm feeling to envelop him, which evidently did not go unnoticed by his cousin. Richard chuckled and followed his cousin to go greet the newcomers, stopping only to scoop up his young nephew from the floor, the viscount’s eldest and only son, Henry.

“You do spoil him so, Richard,” reprimanded Emily gently as she passed him. “He really must learn to walk on his own.”

Richard merely shrugged, and the young boy giggled happily as they approached the new arrivals. He put the boy on the floor as they were introduced to the elder Miss Bennet, who was all grace and loveliness as she greeted his parents and thanked them for the invitation in a gentle and pretty way, her softness a contrast to her younger sister. Miss Elizabeth was all grins and brightness as she greeted the earl and his wife, allowed Mr. Darcy to kiss her hand and hold it for perhaps longer than strictly appropriate, and then turned to the colonel himself, her smile still bright. “Colonel, how delightful to see you!” she said, offering her hand.

“Miss Elizabeth!” exclaimed Richard, grasping her hand and attempting to convey to her his happiness with the mere gesture. “Had I known in Kent that this would be the result of your frequent arguments with my dear cousin, I would have attempted to instigate them so that this happy event may have come about sooner!”

Elizabeth blushed prettily and said all that was appropriate and then accepted Darcy’s arm as he led her towards the few other guests, fortunately only family for now since the few people Lady Fitzwilliam had deemed appropriate for the small gathering were to arrive shortly before dinner. There was old Mrs. Davenport, Lady Emily’s mother, a strict old widow with no time for smiles. However, her fortune was sizeable, as was her influence, and Richard saw his mother’s planning in introducing Elizabeth to the old woman herself. He had no doubt that his cousin-to-be would be a hit with the older women, specially the ones with daughters who had had no designs on Darcy himself. There was also Lady Ellen Carmichael, Lady Fitzwilliam’s sister, married to a much older man of sizeable fortune and a particularly good taste in company. His uncle was present as well, and both looked curiously, though not unkindly, at the young woman on Darcy’s arm.

Richard was stopped from his studying, however, when the doors opened again and two more women entered. He recognized the older one immediately and narrowed his eyes. Mrs. Wilhelmina Harris had the same expression of severity that she had had on her face the last time he had seen her in London two seasons ago, when her greeting had been kind but short. She was dressed in a black dress which was undoubtedly the height of fashion, but Richard noted with some surprise the sparkling diamonds she wore in her ears and at her throat, something he knew with certainty was beyond her modest income since the death of her husband ten years ago. Her expression softened only slightly when his parents approached her, and when she advanced forward to meet them his eyes were drawn to the figure behind her, and he froze in his tracks.

Diana Harris had always been a slight woman, with blue eyes brighter than the sky on a midsummer day, or so Richard had always thought. Her skin was a lovely golden brown colour, thanks to her vacationing in the South of France twice a year since the age of thirteen. Even now, though her skin was paler than the last time he had glimpsed it, it retained its sparkling hue. Her dark hair was piled atop her head simply, but her long neck was on display and covered with a cobweb of diamonds and emeralds that sparkled as she inclined her head and curtseyed to his parents. Her dress was as black as her mother’s, which he once again considered odd since she had always detested the colour. Her lips twitched when Emily approached with her son, and Richard saw a glimpse of the seventeen-year-old girl he had once known when she bent down and shook young Henry’s hand, giving him a delighted kiss on his cheek when he said something that evidently amused her. As she straightened up, her eyes drifted across the room and landed on him. If he did not know better, he would have thought she was searching for him, which seemed plausible since it was his own home. However, evidently his appearance was a surprise. Her complexion became ashen, and her hands gripped her fan so tightly that he was sure it would break. And it was then that Richard’s eyes landed on the single ring on her left hand.

“Richard?” it was his mother’s voice. “My dear, do come and say hello instead of staring!”

He snapped out of it immediately, his eyes lingering on Diana’s face for only a second longer before he forced a smile onto his face and approached his family. He bowed to both ladies and kissed Mrs. Harris’ hand, surprised to see her smile at him when he did so. To Diana, he merely nodded his head stiffly, his eyes hard and yet beseeching her to erase the look of surprise from her face before his mother grew even more suspicious.

As she had always been able to do, Diana understood his glance perfectly and began fiddling with the bracelet she wore, muttering something about it being too tight and gladly accepting Emily’s invitation to take a look at it in the other room in case she wanted to remove it.

“Well, well, Richard,” Mrs. Harris smiled at him in the same, soft way he was sure he had never seen her do. “You do look well. Your mother told me you are a colonel now. I must say, it is a noble pursuit.”

Richard bowed again. “I thank you, madam.”

“I am glad that he is home, though,” said his mother, resting a hand on his arm softly. “I do wish there had been something to incite him to stay all those years ago,” her eyes were sad, and Richard knew exactly what she was talking about.

Evidently, Mrs. Harris did as well, because she briskly changed the topic. “That girl is wild as ever, though you’d think marriage would have tamed her,” Mrs. Harris rolled her eyes, indicating the departing back of her daughter. “That bracelet was a wedding present, but I daresay she hasn’t worn it since he gave it to her.”

“She will get along splendidly with Darcy’s fiancé, Mina,” said his mother, linking arms with her old friend and leading her towards the small group that comprised of the two Bennet sisters, their betrotheds and Georgiana. “Elizabeth is from Hertfordshire, and a very pretty and bright young lady.”

“Yes, I have heard,” said Mrs. Harris dryly. “Your letter was full of praise, Alexandra, though I fail to see her getting along well with my daughter in her current state.”

“You mustn’t speak so,” hushed his mother, and then they were out of earshot and Richard felt his brother touch his shoulder. He turned abruptly and noted the look of sorrow in Henry’s eyes.

“You knew,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” Henry sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you, Richard, and after all –”

“I didn’t want to know.”

“I am sorry,” his brother’s tone was sincere. “I know you loved her, Richard.”

“Eight years is a long time,” was all Richard said. His eyes flitted across the room, coming to rest on Darcy and indicating to his cousin everything he could not say. Darcy nodded slightly. “Excuse me,” he made for the door, knowing his cousin would follow.

Not ten minutes later, Darcy joined him in the small study adjoining the sitting room, closing the door behind him and frowning when he saw the glass in his cousin’s hand. “Richard, please.”

“Did you know she was married?” asked Richard, swirling around the contents of his glass and keeping his eyes on the carpet.

“Yes,” sighed Darcy. “Her engagement was announced two weeks after you left and she was married soon after since the man’s father was ill.”

“And have you met him?”

Darcy frowned. “Richard, he -”

“Darcy, I must know. Is he –” the colonel cleared his throat. “That is to say, does he treat her well?”

“Diana married Lord Charles Herbert, but he was merely a viscount then and a month later his father had died and left him to inherit it all. Then –”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” interrupted Richard. “They are happy? He is kind to her? I know he is rich, Darcy, clearly, but is he a decent fellow?”

Darcy finally lost his temper. “My good man, I know how much you cared for her but you must realize what she did to you! It was unfair, and your concern over her welfare does you credit, but it is—”

“Do not speak ill of her, Darcy.”

Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb in exasperation. “I know you loved her, Richard, and she loved you too. Her reasons for refusing to marry you were baseless and wrong.”

“You don’t know anything, Darcy,” Richard’s lips twitched in bitterness as he downed the contents of his glass and indicated for them to leave the room. “We should re-join the others.”

Darcy hesitated, but finally nodded and left the room, giving his cousin the space he needed. Richard lingered, his fingers delving into his pocket and caressing the silver watch he wore despite his father’s valid concern that it did not suit his regimentals. Nevertheless, he had not taken it off for eight years, and he would not stop now. Squaring his shoulders, he left the room and came face to face with none other than Lady Diana Herbert.

They locked eyes, and he knew he had to approach. Her face was anxious and pale, but she didn’t attempt to run away. Stiffly, he made his way towards her, thankful that his sister-in-law was still standing with her. The bracelet was missing. Richard have a small bow. “It is good to see you, my lady.”

She paled even more when he spoke. “Y-you as well, Colonel,” stammered Diana. Her hands clenched around her fan as she looked anywhere but at his face. “I-I did not know you were in the country.”

“Yes,” he said simply. Some of his stiffness was melting away at her genuine confusion, however reluctant he was for it to be so, and he smiled at her slightly. “Eight years is a long time.”

“Many things can happen,” she admitted, her hands once again touching her hair. She blushed slightly when Emily swatted her hands away. “I can’t stand these things,” she muttered, intending obviously for only her friend to hear, but Richard heard as well and couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, causing her blush to deepen.

“Have you met Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, taking pity on her and steering the conversation away.

“Yes,” Diana smiled, raising her eyes and meeting his a little hesitantly. “She is quite lovely.”

“Quite.”

“She reminds me of Diana,” said Emily, finally interjecting. She smiled at her friend’s look of surprise. “Before you were married and tamed, my dear. Elizabeth is such a free spirit.”

“I wouldn’t call myself tamed,” said Diana, and the fire in her eyes was something that Richard was glad to see had not diminished. “One must act a certain way in certain company, Emily, and fortunately it is an act that I am proud to say I mastered many years ago,” at that, she glanced at Richard for only a second before adding, “Had circumstances been different, I doubt I would have had to.”

Emily inclined her head slightly, but she was obviously uncomfortable with what Diana had said. Before Richard could speak, dinner was announced and he found himself alone with Diana as Henry came forward and hurriedly took his wife’s arm. Richard hesitated for only a second before offering Diana his arm. His grip was feather-light when she took it, and they walked in silence towards the dining hall. He wanted to speak, but as he took in a breath to do just that he felt a light tapping against his arm, a sensation he had not felt in years. Looking down, he saw Diana’s eyes fixed on the sight in front of her, but her forefinger was tapping incessantly against his arm. It was a tell-tale habit of hers, and one Richard had almost forgotten about. However, his reaction was automatic: he raised his other hand and rested it gently against her fidgeting fingers, stopping the movement. The action itself took seconds, but it felt like an age to Richard, until her hand squeezed his arm in the familiar way of recognition and thanks. It was the perfect opportunity to speak, to explain himself. However, as he looked down at her, she looked up at him and he realized there was no need.

She knew.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was lavish, yet comfortable, and the men lingered over their port, perhaps more due to Richard’s dawdling than anyone else’s. However, Darcy and Bingley were impatient to return to the ladies, and Richard did not begrudge them their happiness. They returned, and Miss Elizabeth was prevailed upon to play while Miss Bennet sang, and then Miss Georgiana played while both sisters hovered near her, Elizabeth keeping her involved in the conversation as she, Miss Bennet, Emily and Diana spoke and laughed. However, despite the fact that Richard was seated next to his mother and very pointedly looking away from the group of women, he couldn’t help but notice that Diana did not smile as much as she was wont to, nor did she offer to play or sing, though he knew her voice was beautiful even if her playing was merely tolerable. Determined not to think of it, however, he engaged in conversation with Lady Carmichael about the state of the war, keeping his attention on the kindly woman in front of him rather than the young woman he would much rather be near.

“It is such a pity, isn’t it?” Lady Carmichael sighed when there was a pause in their conversation. Richard looked up in confusion at her remark, and she indicated the group of women by the piano. “I remember when Diana would play and sing for us all night long, so many years ago. You and her were always such good friends, were you not, my dear?”

Richard nodded slightly. “Yes, my lady, we were thrown together quite often.”

Lady Carmichael smiled sadly. “Yes, I remember. Poor dear, she hasn’t smiled like she did as a child in years.”

Richard felt his heart stop. “My lady?”

“Her husband,” Lady Carmichael shook her head.

“Ah,” Richard cleared his throat awkwardly. “They are not… happy, then?”

His aunt looked at him in surprise. “Charles was mad for Diana, Richard! Their story is so tragic, do you not know?” when he shook his head, she continued, “First his father dies, typhus you know, and he made much money in the East. Well, seven years pass with her hardly coming to town because of her health. She had no children, and we always thought it truly upset her, she does love children so. And then, of course, when they did come to London she had changed so much we hardly recognized her! To be sure, the _ton_ is never kind, but there is not a breath of scandal around her now, even though we know Mina says some atrocious things and her father… well,” Lady Carmichael gave him a pointed look. “But the _real_ tragedy happened not too long ago. I remember Diana came to town almost a year ago, to buy new dresses and order new fittings for a sitting room, but she was called back merely a week later. Poor Charles,” the old woman sighed again. “His foresight is remarkable, however. Mina wouldn’t have liked to be poor, you know, and would have gotten her married off again as soon as she was able.”

“Aunt Ellen,” Richard felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Forgive me, but… are you saying Diana is a widow?”

His aunt tutted disapprovingly at his use of Diana’s first name, but answered him nevertheless. “I am surprised you did not know any of this, Richard, considering your friendship with her. Charles died about three months ago, and Diana came into a fortune of about eight thousand a year. They were very economical, the Herberts, and they’ve always been a sickly bunch so they were prepared, but it was horrible. The estate is entailed, of course, and the earldom goes to some distant cousin or the other, but he left her a sizeable fortune, all the money his father made in the East I believe, and the cousin has insisted she keep the customary title until she marries again. Mina has taken her in, and they are living in town for now, but they will probably move soon. You know Diana,” Lady Carmichael smiled slightly. “She can act very well in front of the _ton_ , but she isn’t fit for London no matter what Mina wants.”

“Indeed,” Richard sat back in his chair weakly, his eyes searching out his cousin who sat not too far away, and who had probably guessed the gist of his conversation with his aunt since he was sure he was as white as Diana had been when she had seen him. Darcy gave him a pointed look, and he understood that _this_ is what his cousin had been trying to tell him. He heaved a small sigh and chanced a glance at Diana, who was sitting quietly and listening to something Georgiana was saying, a small smile on her face but her fidgeting had not stopped. His heart ached.

**!!**

“Well, that was quite successful,” said Lady Fitzwilliam, her smile full of satisfaction as she turned back to her remaining guests. Diana had changed out of her dress and discarded her jewels, something her mother evidently disapproved of but did not speak against. She now wore her hair in a relatively simple style, and her dress was still black but plainer. The two women would be spending the night at Fitzwilliam House, not leaving until the next day since Mrs. Harris did not want to travel to London so late. Hertfordshire was relatively close so the Bennet sisters, their fiancés and Georgiana had no problem staying late as well, though the viscount and his family had departed a few hours ago along with the Carmichaels and Mrs. Davenport.

They sat in one of the smaller sitting rooms now, and it was only the Hertfordshire party, Richard and Diana along with their hosts. Richard had taken care to sit far away from Diana, even though there were empty seats on either side of her. He thought her eyes had flicked towards him as he sat, but the next moment she was once again staring at the carpet so he dismissed the thought from his mind.

“It was a lovely evening, aunt,” offered Georgiana, and there were murmurs of agreement throughout the party. Diana smiled, but did not speak, her eyes fixed on her hands that were folded prettily in front of her. Lady Fitzwilliam gave the young lady one last look, which did not go unnoticed by her youngest son, before sitting down near Elizabeth.

“And how was your evening, my dear?” she asked kindly. “You can speak freely here, we are all family.”

Diana looked up at that and gave Elizabeth a small smile, and Georgiana squeezed her arm, causing the younger woman to murmur something that seemed to please his mother exceedingly.

“I fail to understand your plan, aunt,” said Darcy quietly. “Your invitation towards Mrs. Davenport and Lady Carmichael was expected, but I do not see how this will help. They would have approved regardless of your support.”

“Yes, but I wanted Elizabeth to meet Diana and form a friendship with her in public, as I knew they would,” Lady Fitzwilliam looked on in triumph when realization dawned on her nephew’s face, though everyone else still looked utterly confused.

His father, however, snorted. “Women!”

“I beg your pardon?” Diana looked utterly confused.

“You, my dear, are exactly like my future niece here,” explained his mother. Richard blinked. “You are both high-spirited, and that is exactly what the _ton_ hates. The idea of Elizabeth being thrown into a society that will not respect her is not something we want, dearest, and I know only you can help her.”

“I- I am sorry, Lady Fitzwilliam, but I still do not understand,” Diana stammered again, and Richard’s heart clenched at her look of slight fear. He wished he were sitting next to her now, if only to offer her the comfort that he knew his presence would bring her, but he did not dare to move, specially not with Darcy so quick to see his thoughts, and so he looked to his mother to explain.

“I want you to help Miss Elizabeth, my dear,” explained Lady Fitzwilliam. “Do not misunderstand me,” she added, pointedly looking at her husband and nephew. “She is not a child that we must engage a governess for. Her manners are perfect and she is a gentlewoman, but there are many Lady Catherines in London, and not all of them will merely send scathing letters. Gossip is painful. You thwart gossip like no other, Diana.”

“By pretending to be something I am not,” said Diana quietly. She looked up, and Richard felt his lips twitch: the fire was back in her eyes. “Miss Elizabeth is stronger than I was, Lady Fitzwilliam. She does not need to pretend to be a member of the _ton_. She is better than them.”

“Help her anyway,” said his mother firmly. Richard’s eyes remained locked on Diana, though by now everyone was looking at Elizabeth, who looked uncomfortable and slightly annoyed at the attention. “You know how to act and what to say, Diana.”

Diana hesitated. “Yes, but would you want that?” she was addressing Elizabeth now. “It is all well and good to say everyone should not act as they please in public, Miss Elizabeth, but it is quite another thing to do it. I married well, but I knew what I was getting myself into. Do _you_ know?” her pointed glance at Darcy was not missed.

“I do know,” answered Elizabeth. Despite the fact that she seemed slightly confused by the way Lady Fitzwilliam was acting, her voice did not waver. “I care not what society thinks, Lady Herbert, but clearly you all do. I will trust your reasoning. However,” her eyes twinkled. “I will not compromise on my walks.”

The two Darcys chuckled at that, as did Miss Bennet and Bingley, so Richard knew it was an attempt at a joke to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere. Despite knowing Elizabeth only a few moments, Diana smiled as well. “I’m sure a fashionable walk through Hyde Park is a fitting compromise. If you would like guidance, Miss Elizabeth, I am more than happy to assist you, of course.”

“Could you do away with the Miss Elizabeth, please?” the younger woman rolled her eyes. “Elizabeth will do just fine, or even Lizzie, anything really!”

The room laughed at her annoyed outburst. “Elizabeth it is then,” relented Diana. “And please, call me Diana.”

As the two women smiled at each other, Richard felt some comfort in knowing that, if nothing else, Diana had gained a friend through the decidedly strange events of that night.


	4. Chapter 4

“Good morning,” the soft voice drew Richard out of his reverie, and he nearly spilled the contents of his teacup as he stood up hurriedly as Diana entered the room.

She offered him a wan smile, at which he merely nodded before sitting down, his stiffness from the previous night returning. Diana did not speak, merely accepted a cup of tea from the footman and helped herself to some scones. Richard tried to keep his eyes focused on the letter he was reading, but he could not for the life of him remember what it was about. The familiar scent of jasmine and lavender, a scent he had been sure he would never smell again, was wafting towards him, and he resisted the urge to move closer. Eight years was indeed a long time, but he had quickly realized after a restless night and an agitated morning ride that it was not long enough.

“I hope you slept well, my lady,” he said, finally putting away his letter. Diana looked up from the napkin she was shredding and merely blinked her large eyes at him, which were as clear as they had been the day he had left. Richard looked away. “You leave for London today, I presume?”

“Yes,” Diana said quietly. “My mother is anxious to return.”

“But you are not,” noted Richard. He saw her surprise at his remark, and hastily retracted. “Forgive me, that was presumptuous.”

“Yes, but it was a very correct presumption,” she smiled slightly at him in reassurance. “I never enjoyed London, Colonel, if you remember.”

It was a hint, and something he had not expected. Unwilling to engage in a conversation he could not dissect later, Richard simply answered, “I do,” and returned to his tea.

Mrs. Harris came down not soon after, and gave the colonel a warm smile. “Dear Richard, I wish I could express how lovely it is to see you well. You must miss home terribly when you leave.”

“Indeed, madam, but it is a small burden to bear,” Richard stood and bowed and the older woman took her seat. “If you will excuse me, ladies, I have business to attend to.”

“Of course,” smiled Mrs. Harris. “But you must come and see us when you are next in town, Richard. Mustn’t he, my dear?” Diana stammered out a response, clearly shaken, but Mrs. Harris ignored her. “There, it is settled. You will dine with us, of course?”

“As you wish, madam,” said Richard, finally managing to exit the room. He stood outside the doorway for a moment, leaning against the wall and blinking rapidly. The pounding in his chest was something he had not experienced outside of a battle-field, and it made him uneasy. Added to that, old Mina Harris had never looked fondly at his friendship with her daughter, and yet she was warmer than she had ever been when he was a youth. Pushing the thought from his mind, he headed in the direction of the stables, hopefully avoiding Diana Herbert and her mother for an indefinite period of time.

**!!**

“You are trembling, child,” Diana’s mother poured her another cup of tea and placed it in front of her, sitting down in the colonel’s vacant seat and giving her daughter a look. “I know what you’re thinking, Diana.”

“Indeed, madam, you do not,” snapped Diana. She forcefully kept her voice even and ignored the tea in front of her, keeping her gaze fixed on her plate. “You would like to depart soon, I presume? I shall ask John to ready the carriage.”

“I would see Alexandra and her husband before leaving, and certainly the colonel will wish to say goodbye,” said Mrs. Harris, her tone firm. “Do not be so jittery, Diana, the past is in the past.”

“The past?” Diana looked up at her mother in shock. “Mother, that man wanted to _marry_ me, and you _knew_ I wanted to marry him!”

“He left you, child.”

“You _made_ him leave me!” Diana stood up from the table in a fit of rage her mother had not seen her display in years. However, Mina Harris did not flinch, accustomed to the passion that often emitted from her daughter, so like her father’s. “He is a good, kind man who valued my comfort and _your_ approval above all else! He was not rich enough for you, so when he asked you for your blessing you spun a story about _me_ and what _I_ would want to scare him off. Then Charles came along!” Diana sunk into another seat, burying her face into her hands as she felt tears gather in her eyes. “Poor Charles, who deserved the love I could never give him! But he was rich enough, so _of course_ he would be allowed to call on me!” Diana looked up at her mother with eyes full of despair. “How could you, mother?”

Mina drew herself up in a last effort to defend herself. “If Richard cared for you as much as he led you to believe, he would have fought for you, he would have come for you when he had made a name for himself, and yet he did not. Naturally, you had to move on with your life. I did nothing wrong.”

Diana looked at her in blatant horror. “Of all the people, _you_ knew how much he loved me, and how much I loved him! I was _mad_ for Richard Fitzwilliam, the whole of London knew that! And yet you let me believe Richard left me without caring about me, without even a thought of me! I married Charles out of spite and began to act like one of the _ton_ , just to show him what I could do and be without him. You _knew_ that! And then Charles died, and I was rich, so you confessed your sins and you’ve brought me to his home as if that will atone for your mistakes, since I am only allowed to be happy once I have enough money in my pocket! Well, it won’t help!” Diana stood up from her chair and stormed from the room. “John! The carriage!” her harsh tone was probably heard around the house as she walked briskly towards her rooms.

**!!  
**

“I do wish you’d stay another day,” sighed Lady Fitzwilliam as she hugged her friend tightly.

Mina’s smile was forced as she returned the gesture of affection. “My daughter is in charge, Alexandra. I go where she goes.”

Next to the two women, Lord Fitzwilliam patted Diana’s hand with a fatherly affection he had shown her since the first day she had curtseyed to him when she was barely sixteen. “You look after yourself, all right?” his eyes twinkled as he looked down at her slightly forced smile. “And don’t let Mina bring you down. We’ll be in London soon enough, and then you must play for me every afternoon.”

“Of course,” Diana smiled the first real smile she had in a long time as she squeezed the earl’s hand with affection. “Thank you, Lord Fitzwilliam.”

“Always, child, always. Your father would be proud, you know,” he said suddenly. “But he never wanted this for you. He wanted your happiness.”

“Happiness is relative to the person experiencing it, my lord. For some, contentment will suffice.” Diana curtseyed and allowed herself to be helped into the carriage. She smiled at the older man from the window as the groom settled into his seat. “Goodbye!” she waved as the carriage drove away. Barely a second later, Richard came up the path.

“You just missed Diana and Mina, dear,” said Lady Fitzwilliam as she turned to greet her son.

“I am sorry. I hope their journey will be comfortable,” Richard’s stiff tone was lost on both his parents as they walked back to the house. Once inside, his hand automatically went to his silver watch again, and he winced. Unable to resist any longer, Richard took it out of his pocket and propped the back open easily with a small twist. The false back had just enough room for a small picture, a miniature portrait of a young woman was bright eyes and dark hair. He thought of Diana at seventeen, when she had given him the miniature for good luck when he had gone to ask Mina Harris for her daughter’s hand in marriage. He supposed he ought to have returned it, but for a young man off to see the world, the face of a beautiful and beloved woman was all he could ask for, and he had not regretted his decision.

Mina Harris had not refused her consent, of course, but her counter-argument had caused young Richard Fitzwilliam to feel guilt the likes of which he doubted he would ever feel again. The younger son of an earl, with no money, lands or titles to his name, marry Diana Harris? Of modest means, the unfortunate heir to a father who had died in debt and disgrace, and yet her very aura had screamed that she was made for great things in the world. Could he do that to her? Bring her down, the woman who at sixteen could charm men with merely a look? No, he could not. He had not only known the perfectly groomed Diana that Mina had shown the world, he had known the _real_ Diana. The girl who was afraid of the dark, who jumped at loud noises, whose eyes welled up when she saw a dog beaten away from a butcher’s shop. The girl who could dance all night and still wake for morning service, the girl who defied her mother at every turn and yet loved her with a burning passion, the girl who saved her friends from rascals and forgave but never forgot the deeds of her enemies. Diana Harris, twenty-year-old Richard Fitzwilliam had realized with a sinking heart, was too good for him.

And so he left.

Nobody had known of their attachment, which was something Richard would forever be grateful for since it caused less damage to her reputation. He had written to his brother and Darcy, both the only two who knew clearly of his affection, and had given them strict orders to erase her from their memories: as far as he was concerned, Diana Harris no longer existed. Clearly, both men had thought she had rejected him, and Richard was content to let them think that. He did not want them to think ill of Diana, and he supposed if she was to be so close to the future Mrs. Darcy, at least his cousin deserved to know the truth, but he was hesitant. He was no coward, but his actions with Diana could easily be interpreted as such, and after those first few months without her, he had been unwilling to divulge any more information.

And she was a widow now. Richard’s heart ached when he saw the dull eyes, the pale skin, the frown lines on her forehead, so different from the girl he remembered, the girl whose likeness he had carried with him for eight years. Could she have changed so much, and because of him? Or was it because of the husband she had loved more than she loved him? He was afraid of the answer, not knowing if her sadness should make him glad or cause him pain.

“Richard?” it was his mother. He snapped his watch shut immediately and looked up at her. Her eyes were confused. “It is time for luncheon, my dear.”

“I think I will forgo the meal, mother. I feel quite tired after your excellent wine last night,” he attempted to smile with his usual humour, but he suspected his mother was not fooled. She frowned, and he hurriedly bowed. “I will take some tea in my rooms, if you would be so kind as to ring for it. I will join you for dinner. Is Henry still coming?”

“Yes,” said Lady Fitzwilliam, her eyes never leaving her son’s form as he began to ascend the stairs. “Richard, are you quite well?” she called out suddenly.

Richard resisted the urge to sigh. He still did not know how, of all people, his mother had remained in the dark about his attachment to Diana. It would not do to put ideas into her head now. He merely nodded, and she seemed slightly appeased, at which point he gratefully escaped to his rooms and tried very hard not to let the desire to ride to London that very moment cloud his judgement.


	5. Chapter 5

“I hope my aunt did not offend you, Lizzie,” murmured Darcy as they walked along the familiar path towards Meryton.

Elizabeth shook her head, squeezing Darcy’s arm slightly as they lagged behind her sisters, Georgiana and Mr. Bingley. “She means well, and I am glad she is trying so hard to make me comfortable.”

“Indeed,” Darcy was quiet, and then finally asked the question Elizabeth knew was coming. “And what did you think of Lady Herbert?”

Elizabeth shook her head smilingly. “Come now, William, we both know I am much too intelligent for this. You do not like her, and you will not tell me why. Her face when she saw the colonel was white as a sheet. I take it they were acquainted at one point?”

Darcy sighed, but he was unwilling to keep a secret he knew might affect Elizabeth eventually. “Richard wanted to marry her, and those of us who knew her believed she was very much in love him. But her mother, as you would have noticed, did not approve,” Darcy winced. “One day he proposed, but then he went off join his his parents in France a week early and Diana was engaged to Charles Herbert soon after. We never told him of the engagement and he never asked but I assume they parted ill, since he joined his new regiment once he returned and never spoke of her again.”

“You assume she rejected him for an earl?” asked Elizabeth. Darcy nodded. She sighed. “If that is indeed true, it is sad. I thought my character sketches were improving, and I believed her to be a very pleasant woman.”

“She is pleasant, no doubt, my dear, and yet I am not sure the idea of her spending so much time with you sits well with me.”

“If you would rather I do not seek her guidance, I will not,” said Elizabeth. Darcy raised his eyebrows at her easy submission, and she laughed at his expression. “Mr. Darcy, my affection for the colonel outstrips my need to please London society. You do not care what they say, and neither do I, and yet I fear for the sake of our future family I should attempt to make a tolerable impression, at least.”

“I will speak to Richard,” said Darcy finally. “I would not have you lost and alone in London, Lizzie. Lady Herbert may be many things, but her reputation is immaculate. Hardly anyone remembers where she started out, and it is all because of the way she has been acting since Richard left.”

“And in addition to that, we must remember that London society is not to be trusted,” said Elizabeth thoughtfully. “Lady Herbert may have been a woman who chose fortune over your excellent cousin, or she may have been a child who was led astray. Her mother, I believe, is much like mine, only not as easy to laugh at,” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose slightly, and Darcy chuckled at her comparison. “She reminded me of your dear aunt a bit too much.”

“She has always wanted more for her daughter, certainly more than Richard could ever give her,” admitted Darcy.

Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “Then it is settled. You will speak to your cousin, and until then I will open a book on etiquette and try to resist the urge to climb the next tree we come across!”

Darcy laughed at that, stopping Elizabeth in her tracks and caressing her cheek softly. “I would rather have you climbing trees in Pemberley and roaming around with muddy skirts than all the fashionable ladies in London, my darling.”

Elizabeth smiled and grasped his hand in her own as they began walking again. “I know, dearest, I know.”

* * *

“I’m worried about Richard,” said Lady Fitzwilliam as she gazed sadly at her folded hands. Her youngest son had ridden out again that morning, returned after breakfast and had merely had a cup of tea before riding out again, claiming to have some business at the market in town.

Henry sighed. “He is well, mother. He is a soldier, after all. Perhaps he is restless.”

“Perhaps,” conceded his mother. “A change in scene would do us all good, after all. Darcy and Elizabeth arrive in town in two weeks, do they not?”

“Yes. Do you and father still plan to attend the wedding in Hertfordshire as well?”

“Of course. And you must attend with us, though I suppose we may spare Emily and the children. Richard has already asked Darcy to let rooms for us.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “A country wedding?”

“I am curious to see where Elizabeth grew up, I confess,” Lady Fitzwilliam smiled slightly. “She does remind me so much of Diana, when she was a girl. I do wish…” she trailed off, shaking her head and sighing.

“Wish what?” asked Henry finally, knowing his mother wanted an ear.

“I do wish the rumours about her and Richard had been true,” she did not raise her eyes at her admission, and Henry managed to school his features into those of mild interest when she finally did look up. “I received so many letters when we were in France, but by the time your brother joined us, he denied all of it and then when news of Diana’s engagement reached us I assumed he was right. Now, however, I am not so sure.”

“And why is that?” Henry fought to keep his tone disinterested.

“Because of the way he looked at her, of course, and the way he has been acting since. He is very much affected by her presence, that much is clear. I do not know about her, though. Diana has always been very difficult to read for everyone.”

“Except Richard,” blurted out Henry, immediately cursing himself when he saw his mother’s eyes glint.

“Yes, I always did want their friendship to become more. They wouldn’t be as affluent as she is now, to be sure, but he would have made her happy.”

“She was happy with Lord Herbert, was she not?”

Lady Fitzwilliam shrugged. “He was a private man, and they rarely socialised after the death of his mother. A few balls are hardly enough to gauge the happiness of a couple, though to be sure he loved her immensely, London never saw a man so besotted. She did not have children though,” she shook her head sadly. “Poor girl, she needs more love in her life. Mina is crushing her.”

“Mrs. Harris has always had that effect on people,” Henry smiled grimly. “I fail to understand how you are friends with her.”

“Her husband and your father had been friends since their school days, and Mina was a sweet girl when they first married. The years have made her hard, and being poor did not suit her. Those diamonds, however, did,” Lady Fitzwilliam let out an incredibly un-ladylike snort. “No doubt a present from the son-in-law she would not stop speaking of, may he rest in peace.”

Henry hummed in agreement, refraining from speaking when he heard the quick tread of his brother coming near. Lady Fitzwilliam turned to the door with a smile, her eyes hopeful. However, the Richard that greeted them was as stoic as he had been since the dinner with the Hertfordshire party. Henry watched him closely, and the more he saw the more he realized that his mother was right. Richard was rowdy and spirited, and conversation was never an effort with him. Now, however, he sat near the window and fiddled with either his watch or a book, his eyes restless and his forehead puckered in a constant frown.

“Richard, my dear,” his mother’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. The expression on her face told him she had been noticing the same things he had. “You are quite free, are you not, until the wedding?”

“Yes, Mamma,” answered Richard, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “Do you have a task for me?”

“I was hoping you could go to town and perhaps air out the house,” the request was so natural and, indeed, so valid that Henry was not surprised when his brother nodded easily. “Emily has two children now, so I do not want to task her with it. With your supervision, when Miss Elizabeth arrives in London I will be able to follow her and plan the dinner as I see fit.”

Richard nodded. “Of course. If you will give me letters for the housekeeper and butler, I will depart tomorrow and await your arrival in London.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Lady Fitzwilliam smiled, easily appeased. Then, as if the thought had just struck her, which Henry knew perfectly well it had not, she rummaged in her drawers and removed a letter, holding it out to Richard. “If you could deliver that to Mayfair for me as well, that would be lovely.”

Richard came forward to take it, his eyes glancing at the address. His expression was unreadable when he registered what was written. “Lady Herbert?” the stiffness with which he said her name was not lost on his brother and mother, though neither commented. Richard accepted the letter, his hesitation only brief. “Certainly. Is it of some consequence?”

“It’s a letter for Mrs. Harris from myself and a wedding invitation for the two of them. Miss Elizabeth wrote to me and desired that I invite both of them to the wedding. She says there are rooms at Netherfield enough, and since you wish to depart from London to Hertfordshire with Darcy you can certainly bring both of them along, can you not?” Her son hesitated, but Lady Fitzwilliam’s smile was exuberant, and he relented, his shoulders slumping slightly as he nodded. “Excellent! Oh, this is so thrilling. I _have_ missed Diana so.”

“Lady Herbert is a widow, Mother,” reminded Richard quietly. “I will, of course, give her your message saying that she need not trouble herself if she feels she cannot attend?”

Lady Fitzwilliam waved away his concerns. “You may, dear, but the wedding is in September and her year of mourning has ended. One must move on with life, you know, and Diana is much too vibrant to sit at home all day.”

Richard did not speak, merely pocketed the letter and made his excuses, saying he needed to pack and get his horse ready for the journey. Once he left the room, Henry raised his eyebrows at his mother. “Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam, you are a matchmaker.”

His mother shook her head. “I am simply a mother, Henry, and I have seen my son alone for entirely too long. Nothing may come of it, but I am determined to try.”

“As you wish, madam,” said Henry, returning to his book and hoping that, whatever may come of it, it would at least make his brother happy.


	6. Chapter 6

“Good evening, my lady.”

Diana merely nodded at the butler, who in turn bowed and called for a maid to come and attend to the ladies. The girl scurried forward and Diana worked mechanically, shedding her outerwear and immediately climbing the stairs towards her own room. Her mother made a noise of disapproval as she was left behind, but Diana ignored her, as she had been ignoring her since they left Fitzwilliam Manor. Her head was pounding, and she gave an order to not be disturbed and a tray sent up to her, and then she was finally alone.

Diana sank to the ground slowly, her back against the closed door. She didn’t even bother to take off her shoes or undo her hair. She merely buried her face into her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably. Had she cried this much when her husband, a good man with a wonderful temper and eyes full of love for her, had died? She knew she hadn’t. She was still in mourning to atone for that sin, since she did not feel the grief she knew any woman with feeling would have experienced at the death of such an excellent companion. Charles had been everything her mother had wanted for her, and yet Diana had never been able to even tell him that she loved him.

Her disregard for his money and titles had shown him that she certainly did not care that he was rich, and yet affection was not what had led her to accept him. Circumstances had very soon made him realize that his young wife was more heartbroken than she would let on, but he had never questioned her, had never even pushed her to confess feelings he knew she did not have. Eight years had passed comfortably, and Diana had resigned herself to a life of contentment. Her last chance at happiness had sailed away the day before she formally met Charles, and she had known he would not come back. And now, she knew why he had not.

Diana had always considered herself to be a forgiving person, and yet she knew she could never forgive her mother for what she had done.

* * *

_Six Weeks Ago_

They were sitting in the formal parlour, her mother’s room of choice. Mina was busy answering a letter from Alexandra Fitzwilliam and Diana quietly reading a book. Once the letter was done, Mina dropped her pen and started speaking, her voice quiet.

“Richard is in England these days, you know,” Diana winced and looked up slowly, unwilling to revisit a topic that still caused her as much pain as it had eight years ago. She had met Alexandra Fitzwilliam and her husband plenty of times since her marriage, had visited their daughter-in-law and formed a friendship with her, and yet the person she dreaded seeing was always overseas. Despite the look on her face, her mother continued. “He was barely twenty and the second son of an earl, and you were seventeen and a known beauty. You could have had any man you wanted, but you had always been too caught up with him to give anyone else the attention they deserved.”

“Mother, please,” Diana closed her book and rested her forehead against her hand. “Eight years is not nearly long enough, and I do not wish to speak of this.”

“You never stopped caring for him, did you?” Mina sounded pained. “Your husband was an excellent man, yet you never looked at him the way I saw you look at Richard.”

“My husband, God rest his soul, deserved more love than I could give him,” said Diana quietly. “I don’t see why you have brought this up now, mother. Richard left me all those years ago.”

“Richard came to ask for your hand the morning his ship sailed.”

Diana froze. Her heart stopped for a second before it began beating again faster than it had ever beaten before. She could feel the blood rush through her veins, her ears were burning and her eyes were misting over. She was suddenly in so much pain that she doubted she could continue sitting. Richard had asked for her? She recalled vividly the day he had proposed, her happiness, his promise to go see her mother immediately, her reassurance that she would understand… Blindly, she stood up and turned towards the door, unwilling to hear more and yet dying to know what her mother was going to say. She collapsed into her chair seconds after standing, her head spinning with a ferocity she had never experienced before. A cool hand touched her forehead, and she saw the concerned face of her mother looking down at her. Her expression told Diana everything she needed to know.

“You refused,” she choked out. Mrs. Harris looked away. Diana let out a sound that was between a moan and a wail and buried her face into her hands, the tears falling freely now.

“I told him the truth,” Mina’s voice was strong, but she had backed away now and was sitting in her own chair, as always uncomfortable with her daughter’s emotions. “You were meant for greater things than the wife of a soldier or, heaven forbid, a clergyman. Richard knew this, and when I had explained to him that love was not enough, he saw things my way. You would never have been happy with him, Diana.”

“I loved him,” whispered Diana, shaking her head at her mother’s words. They hadn’t surprised her, not after she had seen her harass Charles’ lawyers mere hours after his death to find out how much was left for his wife. Her mother was relentless and ambitious, but Diana had never thought her cruel. “Richard was the only man I could ever love, mother. I would have been a beggar on the streets with him.”

“You don’t mean that,” snapped Mina. “You were always too dramatic.”

“I _do_ mean it!” insisted Diana. She sat up in her chair and ignored the throbbing in her head. “We both know I married Charles to spite Richard, because I thought he didn’t love me and he had left me, and you let me think that! It was horribly unfair to Charles, mother.”

“Be that as it may, it was done,” said her mother briskly. She returned to her embroidery. “Alexandra has invited us to dine with her. Darcy is engaged, and she would like to introduce you to her. Richard will not be there, when she last wrote he was in Kent. He’s supposed to make a match with his cousin, you know.”

Diana snorted, momentarily forgetting her pain at the thought. “Lady Catherine’s daughter? The poor girl was meant for Darcy, was she not?”

“Richard could do worse.”

“Richard can do better,” Diana stood up, her anger melting into heartache. “I will take a tray in my room. I do not want to go to this dinner, you may go and make my excuses. I am in _mourning,_ mother.”

“Your year of mourning is over, Diana. We have always accepted the Fitzwilliams as family. Do not forget the service Lord Fitzwilliam did us when we came to London without a penny to our names,” snapped her mother. “You will go to this dinner because you owe them your presence and your help. London society will not discredit you or your name for visiting the home of my closest friend.” 

Diana closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face wearily. “I will think about it,” she said finally. Biting her lip, she slowly headed towards the door.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know,” her mother’s voice was so soft that Diana froze her in her tracks, her hand resting on the door handle. “I knew you could do better, and I was right. I did not know you cared for him so much.”

Diana sighed and left the room.

* * *

Her mother had had her way in the end, and Diana had dressed up and packed a bag and gone to Fitzwilliam manor, her heart in her throat because she _knew_ he would be there. Did he remember her? It was a question that had haunted her since the day he left: had he left because he did not want to marry her? Had she misunderstood his proposal? Misread his preference for her? No, she knew Richard Fitzwilliam. He had loved her and he had asked her to marry him, and he had taken the miniature as good luck, kissing it reverently in a way that had made Diana want to ask for a kiss as well, but she had not. She had merely smiled and blushed and almost cried with joy, her heart so full of happiness that she doubted she would ever be that happy again.

She had been right.

She had been worried, at first, that he would be angry at her when they met. She knew he had gone to protect her, to spare her feelings. Perhaps it should irk her that he had not even explained himself, but Diana knew that Richard knew her, _really_ knew her. She would not have let him go, not without a fight and a possible scandal. His quiet departure had broken her heart, and Diana had never been able to trust again, but she could not blame him.

His expression when he had seen her had said it all. He was shocked, but not unhappy. Diana couldn’t understand whether _she_ was unhappy or happy. She had had a constant headache since her mother’s confession, and even now she merely leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, praying that sleep would take her so she no longer had to think of Richard Fitzwilliam’s eyes as they followed her across the room.


	7. Chapter 7

_Richard,_

_I received your letter about the truth behind your attachment to Lady Herbert, and I must say, cousin, that I do not know whether to call you uncommonly stupid or uncommonly brave. That you were willing to give up a love I know you have not forgotten to this day is indeed beyond my comprehension._

_However, your explanation puts many fears to rest. Elizabeth and myself were both unwilling to abide by Aunt Alexandra’s plan, since from all I knew of Lady Herbert I felt it would be uncomfortable for you if she and Elizabeth were to grow close. Frankly, I confessed myself troubled with her as well, though on that respect I suppose my mind is now at ease. I will only say, cousin, that you should think long and hard about what you want to do now, since you are only fooling yourself if you think her company does not affect you._

_I will address all further correspondence to Fitzwilliam House in town. I look forward to seeing you in London soon._

_Yours, etc._

_Fitzwilliam Darcy._

Richard put the letter down and sipped his tea, unwilling to dwell on the last part of the message. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he had done the right thing by writing to Darcy before he left Fitzwilliam Manor. His cousin’s loyalty knew no bounds, and he had no doubt he would have shunned Diana and her help completely if he felt it to be insensitive to Richard in any way. On that point, he was glad they were accepting her help: he had heard from the butler that there was scarcely anything on the minds of the _ton_ except the future Mrs. Darcy. Caroline Bingley, who was to be the sister-in-law of the elder Miss Bennet, was certainly not helping matters, her tone malicious as ever when she spoke of the Bennets and their lifestyle. Wickham’s name had not yet appeared, though Richard supposed it would not be long before Lydia Bennet’s elopement would also be brought into the mix.

His mind went to his plans for the day. He had delivered his mother’s instructions to the housekeeper, and other than overseeing some minor changes to the spare rooms, he had not much else to do. The letter and wedding invitation were still in his pocket-book, and he realized he would have to depart soon and deliver them. The thought of seeing Diana in her new home with the finery he knew she deserved made him uneasy. He had left willingly, knowing that that was to be her future, and yet the thought of her eight years in the company of a man he suspected, nay, _hoped,_ she did not love was something he would never be able to come to terms with.

* * *

Diana had barely been awake for a few hours when a visitor was announced. Within the confines of her own home, she was known to be prefer things a certain way. The maids murmured that their mistress slept at odd times, often reading late into the night and burning through a week's supply of candles in a day. She had a habit of hiding in her private sitting-room at the back of the house when guests came to call. Her hair was wild and free more often than it was not, and she was wont to sit in the parlour, in her best dress, barefoot. Of course, none of it was confirmed since Diana was the picture of elegance when they fluttered past her in the corridors and on their way to the kitchens. To be sure, she smiled more than the other ladies, and was known to pop a half-crown into the hand of anyone who so much as curtseyed to her in the hallway, but her public exhibitions of strangeness ended there. The housekeeper and her personal maid were the only two who saw her peculiar habits more often than not, but old Mrs. Hull was loyal to the bone and would do nothing but sing praises of the woman her master had married, and Sarah was too timid to speak at all, so gossip was at an all time low in the Herbert household.

On this morning, Diana had just washed her hair and was letting it dry naturally as she lay on the divan in her sitting room, which seemed worlds away from the formal parlour she knew her mother was entertaining in. Diana had told the maids to say she was ill, and to strictly keep all visitors out of her way. So, when a sharp knock sounded on her door and her own maid, Sarah, poked her head in, Diana knew something was wrong.

“Come in, dear,” Diana sat up wearily and ran a hand through her damp tresses. “I suppose you’ve come to put that wretched cap on my head, have you?”

“Only to make you presentable, mum,” said Sarah, and Diana noticed a small pile in her arms.

She frowned as Sarah hurriedly began to put her hair up in a loose bun. She slipped her feet into her shoes and accepted her shawl, raising her eyebrows when the maid finally came into view again. “Well, what is it? Has my mother found me out?”

“No, mum, Mrs. Harris is still in the parlour. A gentleman is here, mum, and he sent in a letter and would have left but Mrs. Harris saw him from the window and bid him enter. He’s waiting in the hall for you, mum.”

“A gentleman?” Diana frowned, getting to her feet and making her way towards the door. “I fail to understand you, Sarah. I did not want to be disturbed.”

“Please, mum,” Sarah hesitated, and Diana almost rolled her eyes, turning to face her in annoyance. Sarah had been a housemaid at her old house, before she was married, and had willingly volunteered to leave with her when she had left for the Herbert Manor in Devon. Diana loved her immensely, but the girl’s timidity had not ended despite the association. “Its –”

“Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam,” announced a footman loudly, his voice shocking Diana out of her wits. She jumped a foot in the air and turned around sharply, only to see Richard enter the room looking entirely uncomfortable and slightly annoyed. She froze for a second, and it was only Sarah’s bobbed curtsey and hasty exit from the room that made her come to her senses. She returned the colonel’s bow shakily, and indicated for him to sit, which he did.

She was tongue-tied for a moment, but fortunately he broke the tension. “I apologise, my lady, I did not mean to impose,” his tone was so stiff and formal that Diana looked up in surprise, a look she knew he had caught before she could school her expression. Other than a softening of his eyes, he gave no indication that he had noticed. “Your mother saw me as I left and insisted that I come inside.”

“It's no trouble. I was merely reading,” she gestured to the abandoned book lying by her side, picking it up and fiddling with the cover nervously. “It is good to see you,” she blurted out, cursing herself for not thinking when she saw surprise flicker across his face. “The weather is uncommonly fine. Did you just reach London?” she asked quickly, hoping he would ignore her slip.

Richard took her hint and nodded at her question. “Only this morning. My mother entrusted me with a letter for Mrs. Harris and a wedding invitation for you both.”

“Wedding?” asked Diana, a little too sharply. Had her mother not been wrong, then, when she had spoken of Anne de Bourgh and Richard’s apparent engagement?

“Yes, between my cousin and Miss Elizabeth.”

“Oh,” Diana blinked. “That – that is very generous of Miss Elizabeth.”

“Indeed. Of course, nothing is confirmed yet but I am in town until then and I will be travelling to Hertfordshire in advance of the wedding. Miss Elizabeth has already made arrangements for you and your mother to stay in Mr. Bingley’s home and I will accompany you, if you should wish it.”

“That is very kind of you, Colonel, thank you.” It _was_ kind. Diana had no doubt that her presence, and that of her mother, brought about memories Richard would rather forget, yet there was nothing in his tone that even suggested the idea made him uncomfortable. She smiled slightly, and the slight twitch of his lips and further softening of his eyes told her he appreciated her recognition. They would never be as free as they once were with each other, but the small feeling of happiness Diana got just by being around him was back, as if he had never left.

They lapsed into silence at that, and the entrance of a footman with tea finally gave Diana something to do. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to Mrs. Hull and had barely taken a sip from her cup when her mother walked in. She winced, an action that did not go unnoticed by the colonel, though her mother was blissfully unaware.

“Richard! How delightful to see you,” her mother’s voice was kinder than it had ever been, and Diana knew Richard had noticed. Suddenly, she felt like a seventeen-year-old child again, anxious for her mother to approve of the man she had fallen in love with. She was still anxious, but she realized she no longer wanted her mother’s approval. Indeed, at that moment she wanted to be anywhere but in the room with the woman who had ruined her chance of happiness with the only man she would ever love.

* * *

“You were uncommonly quiet,” commented her mother as they sat at dinner. Diana did not respond, merely ate another mouthful and kept her gaze fixed on her plate. It was a vain hope that her mother would simply stop speaking. “He came to us as soon as he reached London, you know.”

“I know,” said Diana shortly.

“And he offered to take us to Hertfordshire in his carriage as well!”

“Yes, he did.”

“Are you not glad, my dear?”

“It does not matter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, child,” huffed her mother. “You say you still love him, and yet his attentions do not make you glad at all!”

Diana snorted, pushing her plate away and meeting her mother’s gaze head on. “I am neither glad nor sad, mother. I only just lost my husband, the man I lived with for eight years without being able to feel _anything_ except a vague contentment. Now, the man I was in love with has come back into my life, and you seem _adamant_ at making him stay there. Pray, what is your motive? Has Richard come into a fortune since I last saw him? Is the viscount dying, and he is now heir to the earldom? Or perhaps the military is now a respectable career choice for your daughter’s suitor, now that she is five and twenty and a widow with more money than she knows what to do with?”

She did not wait for her mother’s response, merely pushed herself away from the small table they had been eating at and departed from the room, ignoring the curious looks from the footmen outside the door. The room was soundproof, and she had not raised her voice, so she knew she was safe. Her relationship with her mother was tense at best, and she had never cared what gossip was said on that front since it was all true. She could not stand Mina Harris, not because she was materialistic and proud, but because Diana knew she was proud _of_ her and materialistic _for_ her, and that had always made her uneasy.


	8. Chapter 8

“Please, mum, Mrs. Harris says she would like a tray in her room and not to wait for her for dinner,” murmured Sarah, poking her head into the sitting room where once again her mistress sat with open hair and a book she would not read. Timid though she was, Sarah had been Lady Diana’s constant companion and maid for too long to not know when something was troubling her. When the dark-haired woman did not even answer her, Sarah closed the door and stepped inside, which finally caused her mistress to look up.

“Yes, alright, Sarah,” her tone was weary. “Did she say why?”

“She says she is ill, mum.”

Diana frowned. “Have Cook make her some broth and get one of the maids to sit up with her tonight in case she feels ill after bed.”

“Yes, mum,” Sarah tried to hide the surprise in her tone, but did not succeed. No one knew better than she how often the mistress and her mother butted heads, and yet Diana would rush to her mother’s bedside and stay up with her all night if she so much as sneezed or complained of a pain in her ankles. The request for a maid was common in most households, but not in theirs. Sarah realized she would have to speak up. “Forgive me, mum, but I couldn’t help but notice –”

“- that Richard Fitzwilliam came to see me last week?” Diana smiled, a little bitterly. “I have been waiting for you to ask me, Sarah.”

“I apologize for the impertinence, mum, but –”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Sarah,” said Diana exasperatedly. “You’d think after being removed from my mother’s influence for well over eight years you would finally stop thinking you’re taking liberties with me!”

Sarah bit her lip, Diana’s outburst prompting her to continue. “I remember that day, mum. I’ve never seen you so happy,” she scuffed her toe against the fine rug nervously and glanced up, seeing Diana’s soft eyes fixed on her face. Sarah looked around the room. “To be sure, mum, Lord Herbert was a fine man, God rest his soul, but you never loved him. You loved Colonel Fitzwilliam, and you still do.”

Diana’s eyes widened. Sarah cringed, preparing herself for a verbal lashing even though she knew it would never come. There were very few things that had unsettled Diana Harris, and Richard Fitzwilliam leaving her had probably been the one that Sarah recalled the most vividly, alongside the death of her father. Lady Diana Herbert, however, was a different woman altogether. She was calm, cool and collected, and even at her husband’s funeral her figure had been stoic and her eyes bloodshot, but dry. Now, however, Sarah saw more of Diana Harris than she had seen in years.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” murmured Diana. She lay back down on the divan and Sarah hurried towards her, kneeling down and combing her damp hair off her forehead with her fingers, trying to offer comfort in whatever way she could. “Eight years is a long time. I’ve spent eight years thinking he left me.”

“He _did_ leave you, mum, and he was a mad man to do it,” said Sarah, her normally mild tone vicious. “Why, you couldn’t be one of those ladies who wanted only money if you were forced to be! Colonel Fitzwilliam was wrong not to see that.”

Diana sighed. “He didn’t leave me, Sarah. My mother made him go.”

At Sarah’s confused expression, Diana sat up and slowly began telling her the whole story, feeling a curious relief as Sarah’s eyes lit up with understanding. Her friendship with Sarah was strange, specially to her mother, but Diana trusted her implicitly. Sarah was not as bold as her mistress, but she genuinely loved her and had eagerly watched her romance blossom with Richard Fitzwilliam, and then had seen her tears and despair when he had left the same day he had asked for a private audience with her. Upon hearing the real story, however, Sarah felt tears gather in her eyes.

“Oh, mum,” she choked out, her hand clasping Diana’s fidgeting ones. She didn’t say more, but Diana squeezed her hand and continued to stare unseeingly at the carpet. Sarah desperately wanted to say something to comfort her, but she knew nothing would help now. While she agreed wholeheartedly that Diana deserved all the luxuries that money could buy, she knew Diana herself had valued Richard Fitzwilliam’s love above all else.

“It's alright,” Diana came out of her reverie and smiled down at Sarah. “Would you tell Cook to send up a tray to my room as well? I would much prefer to rest.”

Sarah nodded and stood up, hastily wiping her eyes and bobbing a curtsey. On her way out, however, she couldn’t help but speak. “Do you still love him, my lady?”

Diana did not answer immediately. When Sarah looked back, she was gazing at the floor. “Perhaps,” she said finally. “I told myself I didn’t, when he left, but I don’t think that was the truth.”

“You must tell him, mum, that you know why he left,” said Sarah. “To be sure, he was a coward to go, but he should know that you will not go rushing into his arms as soon as he beckons.”

“I’m sure he knows by now. The worrying thing is, Sarah, I think I might,” Diana sighed and stood up. “Come, give Cook my message and get me out of this blasted dress.”

Sarah bobbed a curtsey and quickly obeyed.

* * *

“What do you mean, she cannot leave her room?” asked Diana incredulously. The maid fidgeted nervously, and Mrs. Hull gave her a look that had her scurrying off. The housekeeper turned to Diana and shrugged when her mistress’ eyes turned to her questioningly.

“I have no idea what ails her, my lady, but she will not leave her room and she has not even allowed a maid to light the fire. If you would like the physician sent for –”

“I would like an executioner to chop off my own bloody head, is what I would like,” muttered Diana viciously. Fortunately, the housekeeper did not hear. She stepped out of the way as Diana marched past her towards her mother’s room, throwing the door open and narrowing her eyes at the lump under the covers. “Mother! It is nearly lunch-time.”

“I am ill, child,” came Mina’s croaking voice from the bed. “Shut the door and do keep your voice down. My head aches.”

Diana softened, but only slightly. She approached the bed and peered down at her mother, still in her nightdress with her eyes closed. Her skin was pale, but Diana did not know if it was merely a trick of the light or a sickly pallor from her illness. Her forehead was not warm, she deduced after pressing her palm to it, and her eyes were relatively clear, though slightly bruised from lack of sleep. “You do not seem ill, mother,” said Diana finally. “You have been in bed for the past two days. If you are upset with me about what I said –”

“You have said nothing I do not deserve. You always were a passionate creature,” Mina waved away her daughter’s concern. “I merely need rest. Will you dine alone?”

Diana blinked. Her mother enjoyed being fawned over, and she loved it when Diana apologized even though she knew she was not wrong. Deciding to ignore the odd behaviour, Diana nodded. “Yes. I’ll have Sarah bring you a tray.”

“Thank you, child.”

Diana left the room, gave the necessary orders to Mrs. Hull, and glanced at the closed door of her sitting-room in slight annoyance. She was not a talkative creature by any standards, but she detested being alone in a large house with nothing to do and no one to speak to. Her mother, tiresome as she was, was still a companion, and Diana was not used to being denied company. The servants were well and good, but even Sarah could scarcely speak two sentences to her without stammering out an apology for impertinence. It had never bothered her before, she realized as she made her way to the sitting-room, but now suddenly it did. Charles had given her free reign over his carriage and purse any time she felt restless, but being a relatively new widow meant she was denied her usual past-times. She was unused to sitting in one room and avoiding people. She wanted lively conversation, she missed her music, she had read all the books in the library twice, and she craved fresh air. Coincidentally, her restlessness had begun after her re-acquaintance with Richard Fitzwilliam.

Diana groaned and collapsed onto her favourite divan, rubbing her eyes miserably and glancing at the unfinished work of embroidery lying next to her. She wanted to play her piano, the music almost therapeutic, but she knew it would be wrong. She felt like she deserved it, even now when her heart was heavy and her eyes burned with tears she could not shed. Charles had been a good man, and she had never been able to return his love. It was fitting, then, that mourning him should be a painful experience.

At that moment, the bell rang and Diana rolled her eyes in annoyance, knowing one of her mother’s nosey friends was probably stopping by. Since none of them ever ventured to the side of the house that her room was located in, she did not bother to move. The servants to tell them her mother was indisposed. She tucked her feet under her and leaned against the side of the divan, propping open the book she had been reading before she had gone to attend to her mother and vowing she would actually read it this time.

Quick footsteps outside the door made her look up, and as soon as she did the door opened and a footman announced Colonel Richard Fitzwillian and Viscount Henry Fitzwilliam. Diana blinked and hurriedly got to her feet, almost tripping in her desire to be presentable when they entered. A million questions fluttered through her mind, the most important being _why._ However, she did not have time to dwell on _why_ she was being visited twice in the same week by Richard Fitzwilliam. Instead, she focused on smiling and curtsying to the two men and gesturing for them to sit, slightly tongue-tied in the presence of the man she had been thinking of endlessly for days and his brother, who had always seemed as if he could see right through her.

“I apologize for intruding upon you, Lady Diana,” said the viscount, his voice kind and cheery. It set her at ease, if only a little. “I was in London for a few days, and my mother charged me to come see you and make sure all was well.”

“Lady Fitzwilliam is very kind, but I assure you I am fine,” Diana tucked her loose hair behind her ears awkwardly; she had been caught unawares and her hair was in a loose bun at the nape of her neck with a few curls falling out of it messily. She offered him a wan smile despite her discomfort. “My mother is slightly under the weather, but it is nothing to worry about.”

“Is she ill?” asked Richard, his voice concerned. Diana’s eyes flew to him immediately, wondering at his concern over someone who had caused him as much pain as her mother. He could read her eyes, surely, but _his_ were still a mystery to her.

“It is fatigue, I believe, nothing else,” answered Diana, fighting to keep her voice natural. “Travelling does not agree with her.”

“I hope she recovers,” said Henry. “If you need anything, you will not hesitate to send a messenger to us, I hope?” Diana blinked at the unexpected offer and could only nod in confusion. “And if we are in London around the time of Darcy’s wedding you must come with us, of course,” the viscount’s following comment was idle, his tone generous as it always was.

Diana finally gathered her wits and managed to answer him. “Thank you, sir, but your brother kindly offered to escort us when he brought the wedding invitation. Does the offer still stand, Colonel?” she addressed Richard, her lips curving upwards slightly. He returned her tentative smile.

“Of course, Lady Herbert.”

Diana shook her head. “Call me Diana, please,” Henry looked amused, while Richard almost seemed frightened. Diana resisted the urge to giggle, an urge she had not felt in a long time. She knew she could not stay demure and meek for long, no matter what she was expected to do or how uncomfortable she got. She continued to smile calmly, though her pulse was racing lest he refuse or take offense at her familiarity. “You can call me Diana, Colonel, we have known each other for many years. Besides, Lady Herbert was my mother-in-law, and the last thing I want is to be called by her name. May God rest her soul,” she added,. The viscount took out his handkerchief and pretended to have a coughing fit, no doubt laughing at the look of surprise and bewilderment on Richard’s face. Diana kept her face pleasant, though she dearly wanted to laugh as well.

“In that case, you can stop with all the colonel nonsense. I don’t think anyone except the Hertfordshire party call me that,” said Richard finally, clearing his throat. His hands went to his pocket, and Diana distinctly saw him finger a silver chain connected to something that rested inside it. The light reflected off of it and looked eerily familiar. Diana’s eyes widened for a moment before she controlled herself once more and looked away. Her thoughts were ranging towards the improbable. Eight years was a long time.

The viscount recovered from his cough, and the conversation was casual after that. Diana inquired after his wife and children, and was disappointed to learn that they would not attend the wedding as well. The flash of sadness on her face reminded Richard of his Aunt Ellen’s remark about Diana not having children, and it made his heart ache in that strangely uncomfortable but pleasant way once again. Perhaps it was due to that that he did not speak, or because he was waiting for an opportunity to use the name Diana had freely given him permission to use, but time passed quickly and they soon saw the room bathed in darkness. When a footman came in to light the candles, Henry declared that they had infringed on her hospitality long enough.

“Not at all. It was very kind of you both to come. I was just thinking before you came in that I was going mad in this house alone,” admitted Diana as they stood.

Henry smiled and bowed, clasping her hand briefly. His eyes conveyed everything he could not say in front of his brother, and he left the room, strategically giving the two a small degree of privacy that they did not need, because as soon as their eyes locked no one else existed. Diana’s heart raced, and Richard’s eyes darkened, but nothing was said. He bowed, she gave him her hand, he kissed her knuckles briefly, and turned to leave. As he did, however, his hand went into his pocket and pulled something out. Diana saw the flash of silver as the candlelight reflected off the polished back of a silver pocket-watch before the door closed behind the two gentleman.


	9. Chapter 9

“She knows,” said Richard, as they sat in the carriage.

Henry raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“She knows what her mother did. She knows I did not leave her willingly.”

“Technically, you did,” commented his brother dryly, ignoring the scathing look sent his way. Richard had told him the whole story when he had reached town only last night, and while he felt for his brother, he pitied Diana more. “And how do you know this?”

“I just do,” Richard sighed a rested a hand against his face wearily. “I could always tell when she knew something I had done. She has this look…” he trailed off. “You wouldn’t understand, Henry, but I could tell as soon as she looked at me.”

Henry shook his head. “It is a wonder she can stand the sight of you.”

“I did it for her.”

“Yes, but you did not think of what she would want. In my experience, woman prefer that sort of thing.”

“She made a successful match –”

“- and was clearly married to a man she had no affection for. She looks at you just as she did when she was sixteen and her mamma would scold her for not dancing with enough men,” Henry rolled his eyes. “Richard, I love you dearly, but you are merely fooling yourself. Diana is an excellent woman and clearly feels for you very strongly. She would be a perfect match.”

Richard looked at his brother in surprise. “I met her for the first time in eight years barely a month ago, and you are already thinking of marriage?”

“I am merely prompting you to act on your own before our dear mother gets involved.”

“What does mamma have to do with it?” demanded Richard. “I never told her of my proposal, and I know you did not either.”

“I did not have to. She knows that you loved, nay, you _love_ her even now.”

Richard cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will not be making designs on a woman who just lost her husband,” despite his discomfort, his voice was steady.

Henry looked amused. “I see. Will you be doing so when an appropriate time has passed, then?”

“I will not be doing so at any date in the near future,” said Richard firmly, ignoring his brother’s slightly teasing tone. “And I’d thank you _not_ to discuss my life with our mother, Henry.”

“I will discuss it as I please, but I will try to keep her out of your way, for Diana’s sake if not for your own,” Henry shook his head sadly. “Can you imagine being in her shoes? In love at seventeen and waking up the morning after the man who loves you has proposed, only to find that he has left the country without a word? _Believing_ he merely _changed his mind_ for _eight_ years?”

Richard refused to answer, and his brother left him to his thoughts. The carriage stopped at Fitzwilliam House, and the two men descended, each making for a separate room. Henry went to the library, intent on writing a few letters of importance. Richard had yet to answer Darcy’s letter, and yet he made his way to the smoking room, pouring himself a glass of something that was much too strong to be consumed that early in the evening. Yet he rarely allowed himself the luxury of excessive drink, and felt inclined to indulge a little bit.

He had no doubt that Diana could learn to love him again. Despite her many faults, Richard could not accuse her of inconstancy. She was headstrong, of course, and passionate, prone to speak her mind more than she should, and her temper often caused her to appear wilder than she truly was. Darcy had teased him once, in his own serious way, that love made one blind to the faults of others. To be sure, Richard admitted grudgingly, if Miss Elizabeth Bennet could find something to love in someone with a public persona like Fitzwilliam Darcy’s, then perhaps his cousin had the right idea.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Richard could not think of her without a small smile. It was not because of desire, even though he knew he would get along splendidly with his future cousin. No, his affections were extremely platonic. But Miss Elizabeth Benne made him smile because she was as Diana Harris had been when he had met her. She had spirit, she laughed, and she cared naught for the stifling rules of society. Diana had been like that once, which was probably why she had accepted his proposal no questions asked, even though she knew her mother expected her to marry _at least_ a duke. It was probably why he had sought out her company so much at Rosings, he mused as he took another gulp of his drink. At first, he had merely wanted to get to know the woman Darcy seemed willing to think well of, though reluctantly. However, the more he knew her the more similarities he saw, and it had truly been a pleasure to feel eight years younger as he conversed with a pretty woman with a beautiful mind.

When he had met Diana again, he had been forced to do a double take. His family had been correct, she _was_ like Elizabeth. _Was._ Diana Harris and Diana Herbert were two completely different people. Richard had seen her walk, talk, practically _breathe_ like a perfect model of the upper-class aristocrat with more time and money than she knew what to do with. He had watched it with a degree of sorrow at first, which he supposed amounted for his incredible stiffness and awkwardness in their first few conversations. He knew exactly how to act around Diana Harris, but not Diana Herbert. He could read the girl’s face like it was a child’s book, but this woman was closed off and almost impossible to make out. Was it unfair of him, he wondered, to resent her for growing up? He had forced her to do it, after all. Had they married, he knew her fire would not have died: with less to live on than she had now, her brightness would be the only thing keeping them going. He wouldn’t have had it any other way, and at the time he had assumed Diana felt the same.

And then Mina Harris had come along. Richard had not expected an easy conversation, but he _had_ expected her to say yes. He was a second son, to be sure, but he planned to go into the military, and the second son of an earl that Diana loved was truly better than an aristocrat she did not care about. However, twenty minutes into her mother’s quiet reflections on the opportunities Diana would never have and how her daughter was not made to be poor had made Richard hesitate. Would Diana grow tired of his love, once she saw her friends receive fine gifts from their rich husbands? Would she miss her life in London? Would she resent him? Would she, _could_ she, stop loving him? He had not been able to stand the thought. Diana hating him with her usual passion was one thing, she would throw the word around carelessly when she was in a temper, but Diana simply ceasing to love him, ceasing to care about him was something he would not tolerate.

Did she regret her new life? Richard doubted it. She seemed entirely too comfortable in her home, with her jewels and her meticulous hair and clothes. He had seen her in the middle of the day with her hair up, her shoes on and a shawl covering her shoulders, when he _knew_ she preferred to be less constricted in her own home. It was why he had gone unannounced: to catch her off guard, to see a glimpse of the old Diana behind her cold exterior.

He had seen her old fire twice on that first night at the dinner. When Emily had insinuated that her husband had tamed her, her eyes had lit up like a stormy July day. When his mother had asked she “train” Elizabeth, he had seen her frustration clearly. And when she had insisted he call her Diana, he had seen a spark in her eyes which seemed to dare him to refuse her request, almost challenging him to so she could show him what else she had to say. He had not refused, and had asked her to call him by his given name as well. That had pleased her, he had noticed, and the conversation was much livelier than it had been before her comment. He had even seen her absently remove two pins from her hair, which caused a large curl to fall out of place and just rest against her cheek. She had brushed it away irritably a few times as his brother spoke, too intent on his story to probably notice she had ruined her hairstyle. Richard had basked in it, however: her gesture had shown him that, despite what she said and did, Diana Harris was still in there somewhere.

The question now, of course, was what he was going to do about it. While he doubted he loved her with the same ardour he had had at twenty, he knew he could not ignore his feelings. Love was a word he did not throw around carelessly, probably due to the fact he had resigned himself to one day marry a rich heiress for her money alone to get along in life. As much as he resented it, Richard understood his brother’s perspective: he cared for Diana even now, and she was rich. It _was_ a perfect match, but he could not bring himself to ask her, not after what he had done.

Could he pursue a friendship with her? The thought was not unpleasant. He had been friends with her first before realizing no one else held a candle next to her. Everything about her had pleased him, and he hoped she had not changed that much so as to cause him to stop associating this new version of her with his own memories of her. She had certainly cooled since the last time he had seen her, but he could not deny the small spark in her eyes that still drew him in as it had all those years ago.

However, it had been easier to love Diana through his memories, realized Richard. The bright girl suited him much better than the cold woman without a hair out of place. It would take him time to love this new version of her, and to see if this new version would even have time for the likes of him.


	10. Chapter 10

“Good morning, mum.”

“Good morning, dear,” sighed Diana. Sarah bit her lip at the troubled look on her mistress’ face, but did not comment. As she helped her get dressed, she noticed Diana’s hands fidgeted, a tell-tale sign that she was anxious.

“Cook has made roast today, mum, as a special treat for you,” said Sarah brightly. She kept her tone forcefully light as she quickly brushed through Diana’s hair and pinned it behind her head. “And you must sort through your dresses so I can find some colours for you to wear closer to Christmas. Your year of mourning is over, you know.”

“No,” Diana shook her head. “I don’t want to let go of black completely yet.”

Sarah looked surprised. “You hate black, mum,” she said gently. “It would not be unacceptable; it is the way.”

Diana’s lips twitched. “And I prefer it this way. Has my mother had breakfast?”

“Yes, mum. She is waiting for you in your sitting-room.”

“Is she?” Diana hummed absently as she stood, not even noticing Sarah put the shawl around her shoulders. “Well then, I best be off. Has the steward from the estate arrived? I had a letter from him yesterday.”

“Yes, mum, he is in the kitchens. Shall I have Mr. Bonds send him up?”

“I will see him after luncheon. Make sure he gets something to eat and a place to rest for tonight, would you?”

Sarah bobbed a curtsey, but hesitated despite her dismissal. “Are you quite alright, mum?” she asked finally. “You seem distracted.”

“That is an excellent word to describe my state of mind,” Diana sighed. “Do you remember my silver pocket-watch, Sarah?”

Sarah looked surprised. “Yes, mum, you told me you had lost it when we moved to the manor house after you married.”

“And you assumed I lied so I would not have to give it to Charles, as my mother wanted me to?”

Sarah merely shrugged a shoulder. “I would have seen it if you had lied, mum, but you would never.”

“I did lie, Sarah.”

Sarah looked confused. “Mum?”

“I gave Richard that watch the day he asked me to marry him, for good luck. It was papa’s, you know, and I had never parted with it since he died. But I gave it to Richard,” Diana took a deep breath. “And I am quite sure I saw it in his hand when he came to call with his brother two weeks ago.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Mum, what will-”

“I’ll go see my mother now. Run to the kitchens and do as I asked, please,” Diana turned abruptly and headed for the doorway. She was not upset she had confided in Sarah, the girl’s loyalty was unquestionable, but Sarah’s observation of her mood had made her realize how much she was letting Richard Fitzwilliam affect her. There was no doubt in her mind that she still loved him, but she would not put her feelings above duty, not when Richard had shown her that there was a line he would not cross, even to be with her.

“Good morning,” said Diana shortly as she entered the sitting-room. Her stoic face changed, however, when she saw who else was in the room. “My lady?”

“Good morning, dear,” said Lady Fitzwilliam brightly. She stood and gave Diana a gentle hug. “My, even in black you look simply stunning. This hair-style suits you so,” the older woman patted her cheek softly. Kind though her words were, they made Diana uncomfortable. Her hair was down and carefully pinned back from her face since she had not been expecting anyone to visit this early. However, she forced a smile onto her face, rang for tea, and took a seat opposite the two women.

“What brings you to us, my lady?” she asked finally. She folded her hands in her lap, consciously resisting the urge to fidget.

“I arrived last night and I just had to see Mina again. I do hope you plan to stay in London indefinitely,” she added pointedly. “I would so love to have you close by.”

Diana smiled, but did not speak. As much as she loved Lady Fitzwilliam, her kind smile and twinkling eyes were too much like those of her son. She wanted to put Richard Fitzwilliam out of her mind for the afternoon, but clearly she would not be able to. She contented herself with sitting quietly as the two older women chatted. It would not do to open a book when she had company, so she picked up her sewing, a pass-time she greatly despised, and began to work.

Lady Fitzwilliam had just begun to speak of the latest fashions when a footman came into the room and announced Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Diana’s heart skipped a beat, but she pushed down the fluttering in her stomach and stood up.

He came in, obviously surprised to find his mother there, which made Diana wonder why he had come in the first place. Had he come to see _her_? The thought made her redden, and she was sure Richard noticed the pink tinge to her cheeks as she gave him her hand. He sat close by, far enough to seem aloof, but close enough that they could speak, if they so wished. Diana put her work down, knowing she would end up pricking herself at the rate her hands were shaking now. Her fidgeting did not go unnoticed.

“You still haven’t gotten rid of that nasty habit, I see,” Richard’s voice was low, but his expression was pleasant.

Diana couldn’t help but smile. References to the past should upset her, but she was only glad he had started the topic instead of her. “It _is_ a nasty habit,” she conceded, folding her hands in her lap in the way her mother had taught her, more to minimize the erratic movements than anything else. However, she saw Richard’s eyes narrow at her action, leaving her confused. “What brings you here?” she asked, unwilling to let the conversation end.

“I- uh, I came to collect my mother, of course,” his slight stammer made Diana raise an eyebrow.

“Your mother came in her own carriage,” she commented. Richard looked down, slightly sheepish. Diana smiled, but decided to change the direction of the conversation. “Come now, Colonel, confess. Did you miss my mother’s company that much? Her riveting questions about the war brought you back here, did they not?”

Her teasing made him roll his eyes. “Certainly, my lady. That is precisely the reason why I am here.”

“Diana,” she corrected, almost automatically.

“Richard,” he threw back, his lips twitching at her short chuckle.

“Touché,” Diana conceded. “You will not tell me, then, what brings you here?”

“Madam, I expect you are intelligent enough to guess,” he bowed his head.

She dared not say it was her own self that had brought him here, so she wisely let the subject drop. The easy banter surprised her, but she found herself genuinely smiling at the conversation, something she had not done in a long time. “Very well, keep your secrets. And how has town been treating you?”

“Well enough. I spend my evenings with my brother and my mornings with a book,” said Richard, turning in his chair to face her fully. “And yourself? You have been in town for quite some time.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Another nasty habit.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Whatever have I done now?”

Richard smiled. “You always hated London.”

Diana laughed, but shook her head. “I disagree. My company in London was always exceptionally good.”

“Be that as it may, you always were quite vocal about your hatred for town.”

Diana angled her head to one side. “When one is sixteen and being paraded about like a new parakeet from the East, one hates as one must.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Eloquent.”

“Thank you. I read in my spare time, you know,” she retorted.

“You always did like to read,” he noted.

“You seem to remember an awful lot of what I did and did not do, Richard,” her tone was less teasing now, a little more serious, but she fought to keep her smile genuine. She still did not know how she felt exactly, but the last thing she wanted was for him to think she hated him.

Richard seemed at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Diana’s wit had always been sharp, but he had always been an exceptionally good talker. Clearly, that had not changed with time. “Eight years is not such a long time as that,” he finally said. “One remembers things, particularly moments of happiness.”

She pushed on recklessly. “And the remembrances of pain? How does one remember those?”

His eyes flickered down, and Diana saw his hand reach into his pocket, touching something she could not see. Was it…? But no, he did not take anything out. “One never forgets pain, Diana,” he spoke simply as he smiled a small, sad smile full of unsaid things.

* * *

“Mr. Edwards is here, mum.”

“Send him in, Bonds,” said Diana, putting down her book. She leaned back against the comfortable back of her husband’s desk chair and mentally prepared herself for what would undoubtedly be bad news. When William Edwards came in, his face showed her that her suspicions were correct.

“Have a seat, Edwards,” sighed Diana, indicating the chair in front of the desk. “You said you had some particulars to discuss with me?”

“Yes, Lady Herbert, mostly about your future now that your husband has passed,” never one to waste words, Edwards got right to business. Diana’s interaction with the steward had been little to none, since her husband managed the day-to-day affairs of the estate independent from her expected duties. However, she knew him to be a straightforward man, and she was hoping he would not waste her time.

“Yes, I am aware that the new Lord Herbert is in the East and has given you instructions to prepare the house for his arrival by Christmas.”

“Yes, madam, and preparations have been made. However, you are aware of course that your husband bought the house we are currently in a few months before your marriage?”

Diana raised her eyebrows. “What difference does that make?”

“My lady, he bought it with money that does not come from the earldom. In his will, he left it to you along with your share of the money. This house is therefore essentially _yours._ ”

Diana felt the shock of his words wash over her and clenched her teeth. “How is that even possible?” she demanded. “Everything Charles owned went to the earldom except the money he set aside for me as his widow! This house -”

“-is just one in a long list of things your husband left you,” interrupted Edwards gently. “The lawyers told your mother this, but she considered you to be too overwhelmed to understand at the time. I have most of the papers here,” he pulled a sheaf of rough pages out of seemingly nowhere and placed them on her desk. “Traditionally, a male relative would have to oversee your reviewing of them, but the new Lord Herbert has given me permission to act on your behalf, at least until he returns. He feels a duty to see to it that you are settled in life even after his cousin’s death.”

Diana merely nodded. She felt her head spin, but she resisted the urge to swoon. Business matters had always gone over her head, and she was momentarily glad that her mother was here: of all people, she would have a better understanding of what was to be done now. However, Diana _hated_ London, but now that she had a house that was her own she knew her mother would not hear of them relocating to the country. The thought of spending the rest of her life cooped up in a cramped and yet lavish townhouse made her physically ill. “And the manor?” she blurted out finally. Gigantic though it was, it was better than London.

Edwards gave her a sympathetic look. “Your personal effects will be transferred here, of course, but everything else belongs to the new earl. I am sorry, my lady.”

Diana shook her head, waving away his apologies. She would not miss her jewels or her linen, but she knew her mother would disapprove of her unwillingness to argue. Charles had left her much more than she anticipated; asking for more would only make her guilt worse.

They spent an hour discussing particulars, and by the time Edwards was gone Diana felt the urge to either scream into a pillow or fall asleep for a week. The technicalities were complicated, and she stumbled up to her room in a daze, allowing Sarah to help her get ready for bed and mumbling something about seeing her mother the next day. She fell asleep before finishing her sentence.

* * *

“- Charles’ desire was obviously that I live comfortably and as–”

“ _Comfortably_?” Mina looked affronted. “My daughter, the widow of an earl, has to think of _comfort_ now?”

Diana resisted the urge to groan. “Mother, be reasonable. We do not yet know what else has been left.”

“I am assuming your share of the jewels, some linen and plate, and this house along with your income,” huffed Mina. “What else could there be, child? _Comfortable_ you shall be, but at this rate a second marriage would be –”

“What did you just say?” said Diana sharply. Mina looked chagrined, as if she had spoken without thinking. Diana felt her temper, the temper she had been fighting to control for over a week, threaten to explode. “A _second marriage_?”

“Well, you cannot be single forever,” said Mina, maintaining her look of righteousness. “As your mother, it is my duty to think of the things you cannot. You are in mourning and –”

“I expect you not to even _consider_ thoughts of my second marriage for an unidentifiable period of time!” snapped Diana. Memories of what exactly she had gone through in order to secure a husband eight years ago threatened to overwhelm her, and she clenched her hands into fists. Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, she pushed off from the plush sofa in the parlour and stomped out. However, she passed her sitting-room and ran up the stairs, entering her room and letting out a frustrated groan. She slammed the door shut behind her, aggressively ripping the pins out of her head until she was sure she looked like a madwoman. She collapsed onto the bed, refusing to give a thought to the wrinkles in her gown, and ignored the gentle tapping at the door.

“You should be calmer, mum,” came Sarah’s quiet voice from near he doorway. The door clicked shut and Diana felt her small hands touch her head. “You will have a headache tomorrow, now.”

“I don’t care,” sighed Diana. She turned on to her back and stared at the ceiling blankly. “When did it get so horrible, Sarah?”

Sarah hesitated. Diana closed her eyes, preparing herself for the onslaught of comfort she knew was meaningless in her current state of mind. However, she was surprised when Sarah didn’t offer her reassuring words. Instead, the younger woman merely sat down next to her, on the edge of the bed, and patted her hand. “I don’t know, mum,” she answered honestly.


	11. Chapter 11

“You have a letter from London, Lizzie,” said Jane, knocking on their bedroom door and smiling at her sister as she jumped, her gaze flicking from the window to the doorway. “Daydreaming again?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I needed to get away. Mamma was anxious to know how far up Kitty and Mary would be able to marry once William becomes her son-in-law.”

“Do call him Mr. Darcy in public, Lizzie,” chided Jane, though it was hard to take her scolding seriously with the gentle smile on her face. “Mamma will not like it.”

“Another reason to avoid mamma for as long as I may, then,” smiled Elizabeth. She accepted the letter, not even glancing at the handwriting before opening it quickly. She blinked upon realising was not from her aunt, as she had expected, but in an unfamiliar hand. The end, initialled _DH_ , however, told her what she needed to know. “It is from Diana Herbert,” she answered her sister’s unspoken question. “She thanks us for the wedding invitation, says she would be delighted to attend and that we must call on her when we arrive in London along with our aunt and uncle!”

Jane looked surprised. “She has never even met them.”

“She says they are welcome to bring their children as well,” continued Elizabeth, her eyes quickly scanning the letter. “Oh, Jane, William told me she absolutely fawns over every child she sees and she is _so_ good with children.”

“Poor dear,” murmured Jane sadly. “Perhaps we should allow them to come, just this once?”

“I will ask my aunt when I next write to her,” said Elizabeth decidedly. She folded the letter when she was done. “She says we are to bring whatever company we choose since she may not entertain us fully until Christmas. Oh, Jane!” Elizabeth looked up at her sister, her eyes wide. “We leave for London in scarcely a week!”

“Yes, we do,” her sister’s laughter was quieter, but just as happy. “And married scarcely a month after.”

“Poor Pappa,” Elizabeth bit her lip, her joy diminishing significantly. “Mamma’s nerves will be sure to cause him a great deal of annoyance now.”

“We can worry about that later,” soothed Jane. “You should write back to Lady Herbert and tell Aunt Gardiner the news.”

Elizabeth nodded and followed her sister out of the room. Diana’s letter made her thoughts immediately jump to a conversation with her betrothed a few weeks ago. Darcy had received a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam related to Diana, which he had brought for her to read. Elizabeth had been reluctant to go through it, at first, but Darcy had assured her that the contents would set her mind at ease. Though Elizabeth would not admit it to him, the letter had done the opposite. As much affection as she had for her future cousin, Diana’s pain was something she could sympathise with much more than his. To have a mother who would do anything to have her daughter marry well was something Elizabeth was acquainted with, but despite her faults Mrs. Bennet truly loved all her daughters, and that was something Elizabeth was sure Diana could not say with conviction after what had happened to her.

True, it had turned out very well for her, mused Elizabeth as she sat down in a corner of the sitting room with her letters. Diana herself spoke of her husband fondly, and her jewels and clothes showed no sign of a miserable life. And yet, Elizabeth had seen the way she looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam from under her lashes, as if she was both afraid to catch his eye and yet yearning to do so. She had also seen the Colonel’s entire demeanour change after he had greeted Diana. Though she knew him less than the others that had been present, she knew his actions were out of character: he was aloof, he hardly spoke, and his expression was one of incredible discomfort. Clearly, Diana knew that he had left her because of her mother, because there was no sign of hatred in her eyes.

Elizabeth wondered at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s reasoning. Had not Lady Catherine done worse to her when she had come and demanded her to untangle herself from her engagement to Darcy, which at that point had not even existed? Elizabeth shook her head sadly.

* * *

“I hear we are to entertain in a fortnight,” said Mina casually as her daughter entered the room.

“Not entertain, merely take callers that I can bear to be in company with,” answered Diana briskly, retrieving her book from where she had accidentally left it in the parlour and making her way back towards the exit. However, a footman appeared at the door and opened his mouth to speak. Diana was forced to resist the urge to groan.

“Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam!” he announced, stepping back to show Lady Fitzwilliam into the room.

“Is this a bad time?” asked Lady Fitzwilliam concernedly as she saw her friend’s rigid posture and Diana’s annoyed look. However, both women’s stiffness eased upon her entrance, so she allowed her cheeks to be kissed and sat down near Mina.

“How are you doing, my dear?” asked Lady Fitzwilliam, gesturing for Diana to come sit by her. The younger woman obeyed and murmured something about being well. Lady Fitzwilliam smiled. “Darcy sent me a letter telling me of your invitation to the Bennet family. It was very kind of you.”

“No kindness, my lady,” Diana smiled and shook her head. “I have few friends in London, and Miss Elizabeth’s family seems charming.”

“Family?” questioned Mina. Diana kept her face pleasant, though inwardly she couldn’t help but feel slightly smug at her mother’s slight confusion. “It appears I am unaware of plans happening within my own home.”

“Diana sent a letter to Miss Bennet asking her to call on her with the aunt and uncle that she will be in town with, along with her sister and her fiancé,” Lady Fitzwilliam said, her tone pleased. “I just know it would be _such_ a help if it were known about town that Elizabeth was invited to Diana’s first thing, Mina.”

“I’m sure your dinner will do any such work, Lady Fitzwilliam, I claim no powers of persuasion when it comes to London,” smiled Diana. “I will attempt to entertain them once I am able to, however.”

However, Lady Fitzwilliam’s happy smile would not be diminished after her words, not even after Mina’s look of slight horror. Diana stood up to ring for refreshments, unable to resist glancing at her mother to see how she was taking the news. She was aware that this uncle, a Mr. Gardiner, was in trade and resided in Cheapside. Her mother’s new abode in Mayfair, it seemed, had made the thought of entertaining a tradesman highly disagreeable.

Diana felt a perverse sense of delight at the thought of her mother’s displeasure.


	12. Chapter 12

“Your cap, mum.”

Diana huffed, but sat down nevertheless as Sarah began to pin her curls up and set the black lace cap delicately onto her head. The scrap of net that was a poor excuse for a veil just fell into her eyes, annoying Diana more than anything else, but she refrained from commenting on it, knowing Sarah would not hear of her removing it. Apparently, the latest fashion from France was to wear the veil just grazing the chin, and despite the fact that Diana detested the veil as a whole, she grudgingly agreed to wear it.

“Do I look sufficiently dowdy now?” she asked dryly once Sarah was done.

Sarah rolled her eyes, almost making Diana laugh with her expression. “Only you could make mourning look like it was in fashion,” she responded, not looking shy in the least. “Perhaps the glass beads tonight?”

Diana shook her head and fingered a delicate necklace that lay, almost forgotten, at the bottom of her jewellery box. “This one.”

“The pendant?” Sarah looked surprised. “If you want, mum, of course.”

She removed it from the box, untangling a few bracelets from it gently and clasping it around Diana’s neck when she was done. Diana understood why Sarah was surprised. After her marriage, the lavish jewels her husband had showered her with meant she had no reason to return to this necklace, but somehow she felt that tonight it would be fitting. She had worn it to every ball her first season, but she knew she was fooling neither Sarah not herself: Richard had always been fond of the delicate silver chain with the small, tear-drop shaped diamond hanging from it. It had been a present on her sixteenth birthday from her parents.

“I will wait downstairs for my mother,” said Diana when Sarah was done fussing. “You do not have to wait if we are late.”

“Yes, mum,” Sarah curtsied, but Diana knew she would be waiting quietly in the room when she returned, no matter the hour. Smiling, she blew her a kiss and exited the room.

Her mother was waiting for her in the parlour.

Mina nodded in approval when she saw what her daughter was wearing. “I know you detest the caps and veils, but this is no family affair and it will not do for you to look improperly dressed.”

“Yes, mother,” said Diana quietly. She made towards the door, hoping to exit the room so they could be on their way, but her mother stopped her again.

“Diana,” Mina's tone was unusually gentle. “I understand that your… feelings for Richard may cause you to want to seek him out, but refrain from doing so. It will not do to associate with a man so closely when you are still publicly insisting on being in mourning. Perhaps when your time is done –”

“I harbour no fantasies that you would allow me to marry Richard even after I am done mourning Charles, mother, so you need not concern yourself,” snapped Diana. “I would very much like to arrive at Fitzwilliam House on time,” her patience finally worn out, she exited the room and made for the carriage, climbing in and pointedly looking out the window at the coming dusk when her mother climbed in after her. Mina sighed and the carriage began moving.

* * *

“Diana, my darling!” Lady Ellen Carmichael gave Diana a smacking kiss on the cheek and smiled at her delightedly as soon as she walked through the door. “How lovely to see you!”

“And you, my lady,” Diana smiled. Despite her affection for Lady Fitzwilliam, Lady Carmichael had always been what she wished her mother could be: warm. “How are you?”

“Better, my dear. I am so glad you could come,” she lowered her voice as she spoke. “I was worried mourning would keep you away from us.”

Diana smiled and shook her head. “Do not fret, my mother would never allow me to leave the house if she thought it was improper.”

Lady Carmichael’s smile was decidedly stiff when Diana mentioned her mother. Unlike her sister, Lady Carmichael did not turn a blind eye to Mina’s faults. “Yes, Mina is quite capable,” the older woman walked with her towards the sofas and sank down with a deep sigh. “Not as young as I once was, you know,” she added when Diana looked concerned.

“Nonsense,” sounded a voice from behind them. “You are as young and beautiful as ever, Aunt Ellen.”

“Scoundrel!” laughed Lady Carmichael, swatting at Richard with her fan as he kissed her cheek quickly. “And why have you not been to see me in a week, young man?”

“My mother has demanded my attention,” Richard bowed and sat down next to Diana on the settee opposite his aunt. He gave her a quick smile as a greeting and turned to speak to the older woman, leaving Diana to fidget with the pendant that dangled from her neck.

As the two relations conversed easily, Diana itched to get away, but Lady Ellen’s dainty slippers rested just against her foot, and despite their conversation she knew there was no way of moving without attracting attention. She demurely kept her eyes down, her veil providing her with the perfect excuse to avoid talking too much. Nevertheless, she could not stay still. Her fingers picked at her jewellery constantly, a new habit she was developing every time Richard was near.

“My lady?” Richard’s voice addressing her drew Diana out of her reverie, and she looked up in confusion. “I was telling my aunt about Darcy’s wedding,” he added, noting her confused expression. “Aunt Ellen did not know you were invited as well.”

“Oh, yes,” Diana said hastily as she turned to Lady Carmichael. “Miss Elizabeth sent an invitation for my mother and I when I returned to London.”

“I delivered it myself,” added Richard. Diana gave him a bemused look, and he merely shrugged, his lips twitching. When Diana turned to look at his aunt, she realized why.

For the next quarter of an hour, Lady Ellen Carmichael monopolized the attention of the two young people by telling them the often-before-heard story of her own wedding, and how her husband has swept her off her feet in a time when affection between spouses was something unheard of, even scandalous. Diana listened attentively, but she felt like punching Richard Fitzwilliam: anyone who knew Lady Ellen knew she delved into the story of her courtship and wedding any chance she got, and Diana’s long acquaintance with her meant she had heard the story more times than she could count.

She was relieved, however, when there was a commotion near the door and the remaining guests began to enter, signalling the beginning of the real party. Diana stood up to go to them and was surprised, but not displeased, when Richard offered her his arm. She hesitated for only a second, enough time to make Richard raise an eyebrow at her. Deciding that she owed her mother nothing, she took his arm but made sure to pinch it.

“You know what that was for, don’t give me that look,” she admonished quietly as they made their way through the crowd of people who were anxious to see Elizabeth. “Lady Ellen always tells that story.”

“I was just making sure you had not forgotten it. How many yards of lace was it?” Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Twenty-two,” said Diana. She wanted to laugh, but she was already pushing her luck by allowing herself to speak to him so easily. Should she laugh with him, she knew it would take more patience than she was willing to extend to deal with the rumours. “You’ve heard it just as many times as I have, if not more.”

“Indeed, my lady, yet you always appreciate it with the same amount of enthusiasm,” Richard looked like he dearly wanted to laugh at her expression.

Diana huffed. “And shall I call you colonel again?”

Richard guffawed. “If I called you Diana in front of my aunt, she would have my head.”

“I do not see Lady Ellen hereabouts, do you?”

Richard shook his head smilingly. “My mistake. It is just… odd.”

“How so? You called me Diana before,” she argued, lowering her voice as they entered the throng of people that Elizabeth was being introduced to by Lady Fitzwilliam. She dropped his arm and played with her pendant again, keeping her eyes in front of her.

Richard was silent at her comment, but Diana was too busy peering over the feathered heads of all the ladies, hoping to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth and her expression. She noted his silence, however, and finally caught his eye, raising her eyebrows. He smiled, a little sadly. “That was a different time,” he said quietly.

“Not so very different,” Diana smiled. When he did not look convinced, she sighed and took a step back, indicating with her eyes that he should follow. He obliged her, and Diana knew they had only a few moments before Elizabeth would no longer be the centre of attention. She folded her arms across her chest and decided to simply say what she had wanted to say since she had seen him again. “Can we not be friends, Richard?”

The current moment, surrounded by London’s finest, was perhaps not the best time to have such a discussion. However, Diana considered it to be as good a time as any: it would be rare, now, that her mother would watch anyone besides her when Richard was near, and Lady Fitzwilliam seemed to be interested in watching as well.

Richard looked surprised at her question, and he was silent for so long that Diana’s fingers closed around her pendant again, tugging at it restlessly. “If that is what you wish,” he said finally. Diana raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. Knowing she dealt in positives and negatives rather than formalities, Richard hesitated for only a second before nodding. “What I mean to say is, I would like that.”

The smile he got from her was brilliant. For well over a minute, he merely stared at her, and she stared back, her smile never wavering. Diana’s expressions had always captivated him. At nineteen, he had been surrounded by girls who were more women than children, interested in snaring the richest man they could find so they could set themselves and their families up in life. Diana had been the one hiding behind drapes during formal dinners, the one trying to avoid dancing with every man who asked her at balls because the shoes her mother put her in pinched her toes, the girl who had insisted he call her “just Diana” despite the fact that she was the daughter of an earl’s younger son and her mother introduced her as an unfortunate heiress before even telling anyone her name. She had never told him any of this, of course: he had read it all in her face, just as he could read her thoughts in it right now, despite the fashionable black veil that tried to hide it from everyone.

She had missed him.


	13. Chapter 13

“And that is Lady Carlisle, but it would be wise to avoid her for as long as humanly possible,” Diana’s smile never wavered as she pointed out another woman to Elizabeth, but her jaw was slightly tight as she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “I really cannot stand her.”

“She seems to be very good friends with Miss Bingley,” noted Elizabeth. Her smile was softer than Diana’s, but she wisely followed her example and opened her mouth as less as she could to avoid making it look like they were talking about everyone who passed by.

“Caroline Bingley?” Diana raised her eyebrows, her pleasant expression cracking for a second, allowing Elizabeth to see how truly annoyed she was. She pulled out her fan and hid her face behind it, allowing her to speak more freely. “Nasty woman, that one. Mr. Bingley is such a nice man, I wonder where she gets it from.” Elizabeth laughed quietly at her comment and Diana bit back a smile. “I really am a terrible influence. Have I said one kind thing about any woman in this room?”

“Only the poor ones.”

“Women without money are really the best kind,” quipped Diana. She snapped her fan shut. “You see through them in an instant. The rich ones, on the other hand…” she rolled her eyes. “I should not be so cruel. It has always been hard to be an unmarried woman with money in London.”

“You managed it very well,” said Elizabeth.

“Ah, but I am a rich widow. When I first came here, I was poor as well,” said Diana, her lips twitching. “Why do you think Lady Fitzwilliam likes me so much? I was an excellent charity case who could make no advances on either of her sons.”

Elizabeth looked like she wanted to ask a question at Diana’s curious statement, but hesitated. They lapsed into silence and just when Diana was going to point out another lady of her acquaintance, Elizabeth spoke.

“The colonel cares for you very much,” she said quietly.

Diana looked taken aback by the question, but answered nevertheless. “I believe so. We were very good friends when we were young.”

“And now?”

Diana glanced at the younger woman, noting the frankness in her eyes. This was not someone who would twist her words and spread them, she knew that, yet years of guarding her emotions and thoughts meant she was unused to directly addressing questions such as those being put to her. Nevertheless, she instantly made up her mind to try to befriend Elizabeth. If nothing else, Christmas at Pemberley would definitely be enjoyable.

“I asked him that very same question a few moments ago,” she said finally. “My previous relationship with Richard is obviously something you are aware of,” Elizabeth hesitated, but nodded. Diana smiled, showing that she appreciated her honesty. “It is not something I willingly discuss, however I will say that I have yet to feel the same way I felt about any man that I did when I first met him,” saying the words out loud made her realize how true they were, and she sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “I married my husband to spite him, Elizabeth. I did not know he still cared for me.”

“He must have done something to make you doubt him,” said Elizabeth, gently but firmly.

“He did nothing.”

“And?” prompted Elizabeth.

“Sometimes the man who does nothing is worse than the man who does too much,” Diana smiled bitterly.

“I have seen the way he looks at you,” said Elizabeth gently. “He made a mistake, I think.”

“Then he should rectify it,” Diana shrugged. “I have put myself out there for Richard Fitzwilliam more times than I would care to admit. My feelings for him have not changed, but I cannot tell what he feels.”

“You want him to come to you,” said Elizabeth, realization clouding her tone.

“Of course,” Diana threw her a quick smile. “What woman would not?”

“But if he does not know –”

“Richard prides himself on knowing me very well,” said Diana. “I do not think that has changed, but I have. I will not dive headfirst into something unless I am sure of it, not anymore. I could afford to be reckless at seventeen. Now I can afford many things, but carelessness is not one of them.”

“You want him to prove he is not going to leave you?”

“Among other things.”

“So you want his friendship.”

“I want him in my life, but I leave it to him to guess in what way.” She took out her fan and hid her face behind it, and the shift in her posture told Elizabeth she was done with their current topic. “But enough about men. Though I suppose you could ask me what you please about your betrothed,” she added, realising that she had known Elizabeth’s fiancé at a time when few had had access to him. “He was always serious when we were younger, but with his family he was kind and generous. It is my belief that Richard has never been serious a day in his life, of course, but his kindness really has no limits. It runs in the family, I suppose.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You have known the family long?”

Diana nodded. “My father and the earl were at school and later university together, and my mother and Lady Fitzwilliam became friends after their marriage. We lived in Devon, however, and the Fitzwilliams were northerners. I met their parents from time to time but I first met Richard and his brother was when I was sixteen and in London after the death of my father.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” Elizabeth’s eyes widened.

Diana smiled forcefully. “Its alright, dear. I had no money and no prospects, so I came to London with my mother. We spent what little money we had on lodgings, but Lady Fitzwilliam introduced me to London’s finest –” there was no mistaking the sarcasm in her voice “– and the earl was incredibly kind when my wedding approached. And the rest, as they say, is history,” she gestured to the house around them, and Elizabeth smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. Diana had no doubt that she knew the real story, and she internally commended her good breeding for not bringing it up. A conversation about her failed romance was not something she was willing to go into.

* * *

“Well, that _was_ a success, wasn’t it?” Lady Fitzwilliam sank down into her chair as the last guest left the house and fanned herself with her hand. “Open the windows, Henry, my dear! My, how stuffy it gets in the summer.”

“What do you define as a success, woman?” asked the Earl as he waved at Richard to pour him a glass of water. Diana saw his lips twitch over the rim of the glass. “Your peacocks were pristine, but that’s all I paid attention to.”

“Peacocks?” questioned Elizabeth quietly as Lady Fitzwilliam retorted to her husband’s teasing.

“I assume he’s referring to us,” whispered back Diana. “Do not take it the wrong way,” she added hastily. “The Earl has a very dry sense of humour. He’s quite fond of you, I can tell.”

“I don’t take offense at all,” smiled Elizabeth. She glanced at the squabbling couple. “They remind me of my parents. Well,” she amended. “If my parents understood each other a bit more.”

“Love is a funny thing,” said Diana. She resisted the urge to turn her eyes towards Richard. “But Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam are one-of-a-kind. I know she’s been telling you to ask me for advice, but you’re doing a fine job on your own, Elizabeth. They all loved you.”

Elizabeth let out a very un-lady-like snort and raised an eyebrow at Diana. “They all _loved_ me? I expect more honesty from _you_ , Diana.”

Diana laughed quietly. “If not love, at least they respect you,” she acquiesced. “They saw the way Darcy looks at you, and I’m sure that will be enough to keep them away for now.”

“The way he looks at me?”

Diana gave her a look of surprise. “Can you not see it?”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I often find myself missing very obvious traits in people that I feel I know very well,” she said finally. “I did not always enjoy Mr. Darcy’s company.”

Diana politely did not enquire further, sensing Elizabeth’s discomfort. “Well, regardless of the past, you should know that you two are the happiest couple in the room. Your sister is lovely as well,” her eyes flitted to Jane Bennet, who was sitting close by and in conversation with Emily and Georgiana. “But she is quiet; your expressiveness leaves little room for doubt.”

Elizabeth did not reply, but the thoughtful look in her eyes told Diana that she was considering her words. They chimed back into the conversation going on around the room: Elizabeth engaged in a hot debate with Emily over the latest books one some subject or the other, and Diana found herself in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

They were everything that was genteel and polite, and Diana felt ashamed of her mother’s pointed snub of Mrs. Gardiner by deliberately walking and sitting down on the other side of the room. She felt that she made up for it, however, because by the end of their discussion on everything from the latest fashions to the problem of governesses and nannies to the benefits of a country home, Diana had hinted that she would be willing to take callers over the next few days, but only if children would accompany them.

“I don’t want to bother you at all with them, my lady,” Mrs. Gardiner insisted, even as they were standing up to leave. “My youngest is still a toddler, and my eldest is not yet thirteen.”

“I would have you bring them all, but whatever you are comfortable with is fine by me,” smiled Diana. “I really do love children, Mrs. Gardiner. I never had any of my own, but I had an abundance of nieces and nephews to keep me company when I lived in the country. I do miss them now.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled and patted her cheek, giving her a brief hug in farewell that both surprised and delighted Diana. She turned around to say goodbye to Elizabeth, only to find Richard standing behind her. His soft expression told her he had heard every word she had said.

Diana found herself avoiding his gaze as she offered him her hand, her conversation with Elizabeth running through her mind. He took her hand, but instead of bringing it to his lips, he squeezed it. “Are you alright?” his quiet voice was so unexpected, his tone so sincere that Diana looked up at him in surprise. His eyes were full of concern.

“Of course,” she blinked and offered him a wan smile.

Richard nodded. He had always done that: trusted her words for what they were since he knew no power in the world could make her tell him anything she did not want to. “I meant what I said,” he kissed her hand and smiled. “I would like to be friends again.”

 _Friends_. She could not ignore the small part of her that wanted something more, but she made up her mind to try. “I’m glad,” her smile brightened. “I –” she stopped herself from saying what she wanted to say, that she had missed him. Judging from the way his smile turned into a grin, however, she had a feeling he knew what she had been about to say.

“As did I,” his words made her turn slightly pink, and he had the nerve to wink at her before leaning closer and whispering, “That is still a very pretty necklace.” And just like that, he moved on to say goodbye to Elizabeth and Diana let out a small gasp of laughter at his comment. A hundred things could change in her life, but Richard Fitzwilliam’s desire to always have the last word never would.


	14. Chapter 14

“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Miss Georgiana Darcy, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam!”

Mentally making a note to warn her footmen to keep their voices down, Diana stood up from her perch on the divan and curtsied deeply, straightening up and kissing both women’s cheeks before offering the men her hand. Once they were all seated, she noted the tense look about them, and raised her eyebrows. “As lovely as it is to see all of you, I really must ask what is the matter?”

Georgiana did not speak. Darcy hesitated and Elizabeth kept her eyes on the floor, though she looked annoyed. Richard, however, rolled his eyes. Diana looked at him expectantly. He huffed. “Some busybody took it upon herself to spread a rumour about Elizabeth.”

“A rumour,” repeated Diana. She raised an eyebrow when no one elaborated. “You all look depressed because of a _rumour_?”

“A rumour that is unfortunately very much grounded in fact,” said Elizabeth quietly.

“I see,” Diana waited for elaboration once more, but it did not come.

Darcy cleared his throat. “You have a music-room, Lady Herbert, do you not?”

Diana blinked. “Of course,” she answered slowly. Darcy’s deliberate gaze on his sister, who still had not raised her eyes, made her realize what he meant. “Oh, Miss Georgiana, would you be so kind as to play me a song on the pianoforte? I haven’t played in months and its slowly driving me mad!”

Georgiana stood up immediately at the request, looking as if she had expected it. Diana led her to the music room, which fortunately was adjoining her sitting room. She left the door ajar and waited until the music started before turning to her guests expectantly. The music would give them a good deal of privacy, and she silently commended Darcy’s quick thinking. She sat down on the sofa and laid a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder kindly. “You don’t need to be afraid that I will be indiscreet. Did you come for my help?” Elizabeth bit her lip, but nodded. Diana smiled. “I will be happy to help you, of course. Tell me.”

“My sister and her husband arrived in town two nights ago and came to my aunt’s house the afternoon after our dinner with Lady Fitzwilliam,” began Elizabeth. “She had been to Hertfordshire first, and finding that I was in town she came to see me. Mr. Darcy felt the need to include her in his invitation to dine at his home last night,” her tone stated clearly that there had been _no_ need to do such a thing. “Her husband was pointedly not invited. I do not know what Lydia said or did, but this morning my aunt met a friend at the milliner’s and was informed that half the _ton_ is under the impression that I am in love with my sister’s husband.”

The very idea of Elizabeth being in love with someone who was _not_ Mr. Darcy made Diana laugh, and she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head. “My dear, anyone who has seen you two together knows that to be a complete lie.”

“As far as being in love with him goes, it _is_ a lie,” agreed Elizabeth. Her cheeks were slightly pink, no doubt uncomfortable discussing her private feelings in front of her future husband and his cousin. “However –” and Elizabeth proceeded to tell her the story of Lydia’s husband and how they had met, how he had charmed her and worked to ruin Mr. Darcy’s reputation and succeeded in all ways until Elizabeth had learned the truth of his character.

Diana listened intently and patted her hand when she was done, however there was no fooling her: from the narration, she knew there was a significant part of the story that Elizabeth had neglected to mention to her, but Diana could not bring herself to ask what it was. This man’s reputation was bad, but vague. If Diana did not know Fitzwilliam Darcy, she would have been sure it was just a case of jealousy. However, knowing the family the way she did, she knew Darcy cared for London as little as she did, if not less. Rumours would not bother him, but for some reason, this one did. She frowned. “I really do not understand. The man may be bad, but I’m sure people thought I was in love with ten men before I was married. How does this –”

“Diana,” Richard’s voice was low when he interrupted her. Diana stopped talking immediately, more out of surprise than obedience. However, she turned her eyes to him and saw that he looked grave. “Lydia’s husband is George Wickham.”

Diana’s eyes widened. “ _Wickham_?” she asked incredulously. “That cad you went to university with? Your steward’s son?” she directed the last question at Darcy, who seemed surprised that she knew so much. He nodded stiffly, but Diana did not apologize for her language. “What on earth possessed you to allow that man within two feet of a gentleman’s family?” she demanded.

“Lydia eloped with him,” said Elizabeth. Her surprised eyes flickered from Diana to Richard. “Is this why you insisted we talk to her?” she asked the colonel. Richard nodded. “How do you know him, Diana?”

“I’ve never met him, I’ve only heard of him,” answered Diana. She gestured to Richard. “When we first met, he would tell me about his university days and Wickham was someone who often came up, though never kindly. In my first season in town I was friends with a Miss Walker, and after I married she wrote to tell me she was being courted by someone by the name of Wickham. When I found out it was the same one I told her immediately, and she soon found out for herself what he was truly like. She was an heiress, of course, and rather silly, but she had an excellent sense of self-preservation.”

Everyone in the room looked uncomfortable at her story, and Diana could not figure out what was wrong. Darcy stood up and walked to the open door, checking on his sister. He did not sit down when he turned back. “It appears he is now back because he has burned through most of the money he had when we last met, and he is expecting a decent amount in return for his quitting town immediately.”

“And he’s spreading rumours that your future wife is in love with your ex-steward’s son?”

“I do not think he planned to spread any rumours, his presence in itself is unsettling enough,” replied Darcy.

“It was probably Lydia being ridiculous,” said Elizabeth exasperatedly. “She talks too much, and I am sure she said something inappropriate at dinner the other night. There _were_ many guests there.”

“If its money he wants, then pay him and send him to hell,” Diana waved a hand dismissively. “Scum like that belong wherever dead Frenchmen go. Pardon me,” she added to Elizabeth. “I do not know if your sister is aware of his true character.”

“I do not think she cares,” sighed Elizabeth.

“Then perhaps it would be best for you to send them back to your mother’s home. What does Wickham do?”

Darcy answered her quickly. “Military.”

“Then send him back and stay in London until he cannot possibly wait for your return. Rumours like this come and go, Elizabeth, you do not have to worry about them following you forever. What you _should_ do is get rid of him as soon as possible. Out of sight, out of mind,” Diana shrugged. “I will spend my morning in my parlour, I think, tomorrow. If I receive callers, I will do what I can to dispel this nonsense.”

“Would you?” Elizabeth looked hopeful.

“Of course, dear,” Diana smiled. “Don’t fret. This is hardly something a new bride should be worried about. But you must know that your family history will not stay private forever. You are a country lass, but you’re marrying a rich man,” she gestured to Darcy. “They will want to know what you have that their daughters do not, though I’m not sure George Wickham is top of the list,” she rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but turn to Richard accusatorily. “Why did you not beat him to a pulp when you laid eyes on him is what I want to know!”

Richard looked surprised at the viciousness of her tone, but his lips twitched. For some reason, her anger seemed to amuse him. “I did not want to deny you the opportunity, should you meet him on the street.”

“If I see any questionable men near me, you can be sure I will smack them with the most readily available weapon, even if it is my parasol,” retorted Diana.

Elizabeth laughed at that, and the colour returned to Darcy’s face at his fiancé’s obvious relief. Diana smiled at them and got up, calling Georgiana back and asking a footman to bring some tea.


	15. Chapter 15

_“– I’m sure people thought I was in love with ten men before I was married.”_

Richard winced as Diana’s words played back in his head. He helped himself to some potatoes and tried to look interested in the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. When Darcy had called on him that morning and told him of Wickham’s arrival, he had been furious. Darcy was forced to physically restrain his cousin from going after the brute. Once Richard had calmed down, Darcy had told him of the rumours, admitting that he did not know how far they had spread but that he was not willing to find out.

Darcy would have preferred to visit Diana alone, but Richard had insisting on coming along. Unwilling to alarm her relations, Elizabeth had made up an excuse to visit Georgiana, forcing the younger girl to accompany them. As capable as Diana was, Richard was perfectly aware that there had been no dire need to visit her. However, their conversation from three days ago was still at the forefront of his mind. Friendship was the furthest thing he had considered when he had seen her again, but he would not dare to disregard her feelings, not when he owed her so much. And yet, the expression on her face had been full of longing, much like his own –

“Richard?” his mother’s voice drew him out of his reverie. She looked concerned. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Of course, mamma,” he replied quickly. Richard smiled and continued to eat, making more of an effort to be involved in the conversation. Fortunately, his brother seemed to sense where his thoughts were going and swiftly began a talk about the latest news from the front, ensuring Richard would have something to say and thus keeping his mind off of what, or rather _whom,_ he really wanted to think about.

It was not until they were both in the library and his father had retired to his study that Henry broached the subject.

“I hear you went to Mayfair today,” said Henry, his tone light. “How is Diana doing? Emily has been meaning to call on her.”

“She is well. She mentioned she would take callers tomorrow, you should tell Emily,” answered Richard. His brother looked at him pointedly, expecting a better answer. Richard sighed. “What do you want me to say, Henry?”

“I want you to show some of that bravery you’ve been taught in the army and march on over to her house and declare yourself,” Henry spoke casually, as if they were discussing the weather. Richard choked on his drink, causing his brother to roll his eyes in an uncharacteristic display of annoyance. “Come now, Richard. You’re in love with her, you always have been. She’s a widow now and I’m sure she still has some sort of affection for you. Added to that, she is rich.”

“You want me to declare myself to a woman I have not seen in years, someone I do not even think I know anymore?” Richard snorted. “I know we differ in our opinions on marriage, brother, but I did not think even you would consider that a wise idea.”

“You believe in marrying well, because you do not think a military career would let you earn enough to satisfy a woman,” said Henry bluntly. He held up a hand when Richard attempted to protest. “Do not try and defend yourself, brother. I know you better than you think. And while I agree that money is something everyone should take into account before marriage, I also know that you would never be happy unless you married a woman you could respect and love. A sizeable dowry and a house of your own would only make you happy to a certain extent. Fortunately, Diana has money and you are clearly besotted with her.”

Richard shook his head. “I won’t marry her, not like this.”

“Then move on,” said Henry simply. Richard looked at him in surprise. Henry sighed. “You are twenty-seven, Richard. You may not think it, but you are getting old.”

“Darcy is older than I.”

“Yes, but by your logic, Darcy could afford to stay single,” pointed out Henry. “Mamma is too afraid to pressure you into courting someone, because you have a nasty habit of disappearing to the continent and putting your life in danger every time she tries to tell you what is best,” Richard shrank under his brother’s accusing gaze, remembering all too well the last conversation with his mother when she had attempted to coerce him into considering marriage, and he had promptly taken an assignment in France for three months. She had not dared to say anything when he came back, merely hysterical with relief that he had indeed returned alive.

Nevertheless, he refused to change his mind. “I will not marry Diana simply because I need to marry, Henry, she deserves better than that. She deserves better than anything I can give her.”

Henry sighed. “And yet you will not move on. Will you pine after her forever?”

“It is not pining,” argued Richard. He stood up and began pacing in front of the fire, debating with himself: he trusted his brother to keep his secrets, but he did not trust him not to interfere. “I know I am old,” he stopped pacing and turned to face his brother earnestly. “Perhaps not ancient, but I am not one and twenty anymore. I know I should settle down, leave the military so that our parents may stop worrying about my safety, but I need something to _do._ I cannot court a woman so above me. I need to be worthy of her. I will never be worthy of Diana, not after what I did to her. She told me she wants us to be friends. I need to respect that.”

“And how do you know that is all she wants?” asked Henry, raising his eyebrows.

“Because if she wanted more, she would have said so,” Richard was confident. “I may not have seen her for years, but I do know that if she still loved me, she would not have said all she wants is my friendship.”

“You seem very sure of that fact. Women do like to be wooed, you know.”

“I _am_ sure. She did not care for all that the first time.”

“She may care for it _now,_ Richard,” insisted Henry. “She may need proof of your devotion to her. She may not trust you.”

Richard shook his head. “She knows I left because it was the right thing to do. I regret it, but she made a life for herself as I knew she would.”

“She was in love with you and you left her, that is the long and short of it.”

Richard shook his head. “I stand by my decision. I will do this at her pace. If she wants to be friends, I will give her that.”

Henry sighed. “You refused to even see her when she was married. Where was your friendship then?”

“Things are different now.”

“Because she is a widow?”

Richard nodded reluctantly. “If I had seen her in town and she was still married, I would have stayed out of her way. But now, she is alone, and I know she does not like being alone. If she wants a friend, I will be that for her. If she wants more…” he sighed, the very idea making his heart race in a way it had not since he had first met her. “I would rather wait for her to hint at it.”

“So let me see if I understand,” Henry leaned forward in his chair, his fingers clasped together mock-thoughtfully. “You believe you are not good enough for the woman you love, and so you would like to wait for her to declare herself to you first?” Richard hesitated, Henry’s incredulousness finally catching up with him, but his brother went on. “Of course, the last time you wanted to marry her you ran away for eight years because her mother disapproved of the match, and she married a very wealthy earl and spent many content, if not happy, years with him. Keeping that in mind, _and_ keeping in mind the fact that she may be in love with you and may simply think _you_ to be indifferent to _her_ , do you still think your idea is the best course of action?”

“I will not go against her wishes, so yes, it is,” said Richard firmly.

“Damn you!” Henry slammed his glass onto the table and ran a hand over his face exhaustedly. “You will not even consider, then, the idea that she may want _you_ to make the first move?”

“She may have changed, Henry, but Diana never played games with me.”

“Well, if she is playing one now, I cannot decide who is going to benefit from it,” shot back Henry.

Richard huffed and sat down in a chair opposite his brother. “You seem far too interested in my life these days.”

Henry sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I am looking out for you,” his tone was kind. “You may think of me as the older brother who spends his free time managing the estate and all kinds of tedious matters, but I do care about you, Richard. I do not want you to think you cannot marry the woman you love simply because you are not good enough. You will always have a home with father, and with myself, rich or poor, wife or no wife,” Richard waved away the sentiment immediately, his reaction the same every time his brother tried to explain how unnecessary it was for him to feel inferior simply because he was the younger son. This time, however, Henry took the hint and tried another approach. “I’ve seen you with Diana, and I truly believe you two would be happy together if you took a chance and spoke with her frankly.”

“And if you are wrong?” asked Richard bitterly. “If she does not care for me, if she truly only wants my friendship, then I have ruined any chance I have if I declare myself and she rejects me.”

“I would think that she is worth that risk.”

“Nothing is worth spending the rest of my life without her,” Richard shook his head. “I spent eight years without her, and now I have her. It may not be in the form that I want, but that does not matter. You may disagree, Henry, but I will not do it.”

“And you will not even try?”

“To make her fall in love with me again?” Diana’s flushed cheeks came to mind, when he had complimented her necklace as she was preparing to leave his parents’ house… The sparkle in her eye when she had heard Wickham’s name and demanded to know why he had not punched him on the spot… “It is no matter,” he decided. “I will not even think of marriage unless she wants it.”

Henry rolled his eyes, and Richard knew he was done with the topic, at least for now. “For a reputed rake, you really do not understand women,” was all his brother said as he put his empty glass on the desk and departed for bed. Richard followed soon after.


	16. Chapter 16

“Diana!”

“Hello, darling,” Diana stood and kissed Lady Rosalind Bertram’s cheek. Her friend smiled and sat down opposite her, accepting the cup of tea a footman gave her.

The two women chatted pleasantly, but Diana was no fool. She could see from the way Rose’s eyes drifted around the room that her friend had something to say to her, and she did not know how to begin. Diana decided to end her contemplation.

“You can speak to me without fear of a tantrum, Rose,” she said as she sipped her tea daintily. “We have both known each other long enough to realize I never lose my temper.”

“I have every faith in your ability to keep your temper,” replied her friend immediately. She set her cup down on the table before her and clasped her hands in her lap, similar to the way Diana herself did when she was anxious. She threw her a wan smile. “I never could keep a secret from you.”

“You are not alone,” said Diana dryly. “What is it, dear?”

“I wanted to ask you about your new acquaintances.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“The Fitzwilliams.”

Diana blinked, her serene demeanour cracking momentarily. She had been expecting something about Elizabeth, maybe a few comments about Darcy. Two women who had come to call on her before Rose had insinuated that the rumours she had worried about had indeed spread far. However, Diana had shut them down coldly, confident in her ability to squash such ridiculous notions. This, however, was unexpected.

“They are hardly new acquaintances,” she said finally, hedging the question. “I have known the family my whole life.”

“Have you?” Rose looked surprised. Of course, Diana realized. She had not been in town, the season she had first met Richard.

“Of course. I dine with the Countess every time they are in town, and Emily and I have been friends for years,” she smiled warmly, but it did not reach her eyes. Fortunately, Rose did not notice.

“You have seen them often, then, since your marriage?” the hopefulness in her tone was impossible to ignore.

“Well, I moved to Somerset, of course,” Diana took a sip of her tea again, willing her hands not to shake. “I suppose I have seen them more often since I moved to town. But what is it that you disapprove of, my dear?” she tried to smile, attempting to put her friend at ease. “I did not realize you knew them.”

“Oh, nothing! It is just…” Rose hesitated. “I saw you with the Colonel, at the dinner his mother threw for Darcy and his betrothed, Miss Bennet,” she said finally.

Now what did _that_ mean? Diana fought to keep her face blank. “Yes, I suppose you did. It was his home, after all.” Her tone was disinterested as she put her cup down and broke off a piece of cake with her fork. It was easier to control her shaking hands when she did not have to worry about spilling tea on herself.

“Have you known him long?”

Diana seriously doubted she had ever been more uncomfortable in Rose’s presence than she was at that moment. “It is hard to keep track. He was often around when I was in my first season. His father and Charles’ father were friends as well, if I remember,” she threw the last sentence in for good measure, feeling the need to remind Rose that there was nothing inappropriate in her speaking to a man.

However, Rose appeared to have barely heard. Her eyes lit up with a suspicious glint. “He is the younger son, is he not?”

“Yes, Henry is older,” utterly confused as to where the conversation had gone, Diana looked at her friend pointedly. “Are you acquainted with the Colonel, dear?”

“Oh, no,” uncharacteristically, a blush spread across Rose’s cheeks. “I – I met him, briefly, at the dinner. A formal introduction, that is all.”

“Oh,” Diana blinked. “And…?” she trailed off, looking at Rose encouragingly.

“I – well, I assumed, since you know the family so well, you would, uh –” it was so uncommon for Rose to stammer that it took Diana a good minute to understand what she was implying.

She felt as if a cold hand had gripped her heart and was attempting to pull it from her chest. Of course, how could she have not realized? Richard was remarkably good-looking and charmed every female when he walked into the room simply by the aura he gave off, one of ease and acceptance. It was ridiculous to image her friend would not have noticed: Rose was her age, with a sizeable fortune from her mother, being the only child of an earl whose estate was entailed away. She was beautiful as well, with curly blonde hair that she always took care to wear in the latest styles, green eyes and an attractive figure. She had never had a suitor; it had been acknowledged that she would marry her cousin, the heir to her father’s title. However, his elopement with a French girl two years ago meant that she had effectively been single since then. However, she had always had her eye on much younger men, who were easier to snare. At least, that was what Diana had always heard.

“You would like to be introduced?” asked Diana finally. She bit her lip as Rose nodded enthusiastically. “I do not know when we will all next meet, of course, but if the opportunity every arose I suppose I could –” Rose interrupted her immediately, thanking her profusely and giving her a sly look that spoke volumes of her intentions. Her request granted, she promptly delved into the latest gossip, anxiety forgotten.

Across from her, Diana willed herself to remain in control. It was just an introduction. It meant nothing. _But it might lead to something_. She tried to focus on the conversation, but it was difficult. Her love for Richard had not been instantaneous, and neither had his. They had started with a formal introduction as well – he had seen her in Almack’s and his mother had quickly introduced them, intending for him to keep her out of trouble since she was known to disappear and strategically avoid dancing at every opportunity. Richard, of course, had been the worst person to keep her in check and had instead spread a rumour that she had a contagious rash on her hands and that was why she always wore gloves, not realizing that it was the newest fashion. When Diana had furiously demanded an explanation, he had merely grinned and told her it would keep the gentlemen from asking for her hand, and had promptly engaged her for the next two sets. They had become almost inseparable after that.

The chances of him making her a second proposal were slim, Diana realized with a sinking heart. Despite her desire to be with him, she knew she had to be careful. Richard had always cared about her, and she did not doubt his affection: she doubted his determination. If at first they had seemed poles apart, they definitely were now. Diana was beautiful and clever, but she felt years older than the cheerful, conventionally pretty woman seated opposite her. Richard had loved her when she was like Rose, unconcerned and bright. Now, after being married and living with another man for eight years, she doubted she was what he wanted.

* * *

“You seem better,” observed Mina.

Diana looked up from the vegetables she was picking at and threw her mother a blank look. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Mina huffed. “ _I beg your pardon_ ,” she stressed, correcting her daughter’s informal speech. “I said you look well.”

“Oh,” Diana blinked. “Yes, well, I suppose I do.”

“Richard wouldn’t have something to do with that, would he?”

Diana groaned. “Mother, really?”

Mina sipped her wine daintily. “It was merely a question, dear.”

Diana willed herself to be patient. “Richard and I are friends, mother. We were friends before anything happened, and I want to be friends again. That is all there is.”

“It did not seem that way last week.”

“Why, because I did not avoid him like the plague in his own home?”

“No, because I specifically told you to stay away from him and you disobeyed me.”

Diana snorted. “I am twenty-five, mother. You cannot tell me what is proper and what is not anymore.”

“I am your mother whether you are five and twenty or five and fifty,” said Mina tersely. She put her fork down on the plate with a loud _clink_ and gave her daughter a look. “And I will not be spoken to like that in my own home.”

Diana could not control the bubble of laughter that burst from her lips. “Its not _your_ home,” she bit out. She stood up from the table and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes glinting as she felt her temper rising. “It isn’t even _my_ home. It is my dead husband’s home, a home he left to me because he loved me and wanted me to be comfortable. Alas, I could not feel that way about him. I wonder who is to blame for that?” she questioned, her voice full of sarcasm.

Mina rose from her chair, her eyes narrowed. Immediately, Diana knew she had gone too far. She was a good head taller than Mina, but something about her mother’s gaze had always made her feel small. She tried not to cower as Mina crossed the room and stood in front of her daughter, her arms folded across her chest and her jaw tight.

“Do not blame me for your inability to see your good fortune,” said Mina coldly. “I did what I thought was right, and I do not regret my actions for a second. It is easy to turn me into the villain, Diana, because you do not want to admit to yourself that Richard did not stay and fight for you.”

Diana winced. Her mother had always had the ability to voice exactly the thought she did not want to hear. “He would have stayed and married me had you not let your greed get the better of you,” she said finally.

Mina’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “Do you think Richard could afford to provide you with all of this, should he die in battle, Diana? Could he leave you an army of servants, a house in Mayfair, and jewels worth more than your dowry?”

Diana felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. “I didn’t want any of that, mother,” she said, her voice breaking. “All I wanted was him. He loved me.”

“Any number of men were in love with you at that time!” insisted Mina. “What makes him so special? He was just a _boy_!”

“Are you truly asking me that question?” Diana’s eyes widened. “Do I truly need to explain to you why I was heartbroken when the man I loved left me?”

“Yes, you do,” said Mina briskly. “You were richer when he left.”

“Yes, but I was _miserable_. You cannot _buy_ happiness, mother!”

“You cannot be happy in poverty either!” she shot back. Her hands tightened into fists, and her tone became positively bitter. “You foolish, foolish child, can you not see that I saved you from becoming like myself?”

Diana recoiled as if she had been slapped. Her mother had never once voiced her dissatisfaction with her life. It was an unspoken rule: she had suffered, but she suffered in silence. And her parents’ marriage…

“How can you say that?” whispered Diana. She gripped the back of a chair for support. “Daddy loved you.”

“He also left me without a penny to my name and a child to care for,” snapped Mina. “And make no mistake, child, he _left_ me, and he left you too. Had it not been for the charity of relatives and my efforts, you would never be where you are today. I intended for you to marry well, for both of us. You selfishly thought you could marry an earl’s younger son and be happy forever. I had to correct your mistake.”

“So your solution was to scare away the only man who truly loved me because he couldn’t provide me with a house, an army of servants and expensive clothes?” asked Diana incredulously.

“Oh, yes, my actions sound so terrible _now_ ,” Mina rolled her eyes. “I did not hear you complain when you agreed to marry Lord Herbert a week after being introduced!”

“I was a sixteen-year-old child who had just had her heart broken!” Diana was no longer controlling herself. Her tears fell down her red cheeks and her hands were clenched at her sides, to stop herself from ripping out her hair. Her voice rose with every word she spoke. “I lashed out and did what I thought would make me feel better _because I thought he did not love me_. You _lied_ to me. You let me believe he did not care!”

“If he cared, he would have stayed!”

“And if he had?” challenged Diana. “If he had stayed, would you have reconsidered? Would you have decided he was good enough for me, even though he was not a first born son? I was poorer than him, mother!”

“He had no prospects –”

“Nor did I! At least he was going into the military!”

“You had half of London mad over you! And to lower yourself and become a _soldier’s_ wife –”

“But _I_ was mad over him!” Diana shrieked, finally unable to put up with her mother’s logic. There was a beat of silence after her shout, and Mina looked surprised by her raised voice. Diana had never screamed at her.

Diana straightened her back immediately, a cold expression coming into her eyes and she looked at the woman opposite her. She took a deep breath and broke the painfully loud silence of the room. “I cannot forgive you for what you have done to me, and I never will. I would sooner forgive Richard and marry him, just to spite you.”

“Just like you married Herbert to spite Richard.” It was not a question. Mina’s words were dripping with venom.

Diana felt her heart break all over again as she avoided her eye and walked out of the room, taking care to slam the door behind her.


	17. Chapter 17

“Are you sure, mum?” asked Sarah.

Diana’s eyes were glassy, but they were fixed on the mound of clothes at her feet. “Yes, dear.”

Sarah looked worried, but curtseyed nevertheless, exiting the room with another stack of perfectly folded black dresses in her arms. Diana sat down at her desk heavily, rubbing her eyes and glancing at the pile of fabric on her bed, ready to be sent to the seamstress with measurements for her new wardrobe. Over a year of mourning meant she was at liberty to wean herself off of black, something she had been looking forward to for weeks. Now that it was time, however, she found herself reluctant. It had been an excellent security blanket. She had been a newly-widowed woman: now, she was merely a widow.

A year of mourning also meant it had been over two months since she had last spoken to her mother.

They had meals together, and even took callers on Tuesdays when Diana felt up to it, but other than that Diana had refused to speak to her since their argument the day Rose had asked for an introduction to Richard. The house had an air of stillness that was almost suffocating, only alleviated when Mina went out on Wednesdays. Diana had taken to hiding in her bedroom instead of her sitting-room: half the library’s books were stacked on her desk, alongside some sewing that she forced herself to complete and unfinished letters.

Never before had she appreciated her friends so much. As if sensing her discomfort, Richard came to call every Tuesday, even stopping by on Wednesdays for tea when he knew she spent her free time reading in the library since her mother was out. Their friendship was flourishing and had quickly settled into the familiar flow of jokes, playful arguments, and Richard’s story-telling, since he was now far more well-travelled than her. They talked about the war, politics, music, books, anything they could think of. Diana had always appreciated his candour. He did not skirt around topics that other men did with her, in fact he had always admired her intelligence, and it was clear that he still did. Even though she knew she should not feel so, she was flattered.

Often, he came with his mother, but sometimes he brought Henry along, and the viscount always had some amusing tale to tell about his children that would make her smile. Just last week, they had even brought along young Henry, who had wreaked havoc among her crystal ornaments, and Diana had never laughed more than when she had seen Richard attempt to save the pair of jade dogs that sat on her coffee table.

It was during such visits that she caught him looking at her strangely. His expression was almost wistful, but if she ever made to comment about it he would cut her off with some bit of banter that made her forger her initial point completely. They were careful to avoid flirting, even though Diana knew he rarely spoke to women without that natural charm that came off as frankness. Sometimes, they slipped up, and she found herself turning pink, but those moments were few.

Elizabeth had come at least twice a week before she left town, with Georgiana, Jane, and her aunt in tow. Reluctantly, she had even consented to bringing her mother once. _That_ visit had left Diana exhausted, but she had somehow enjoyed Mrs. Bennet’s non-stop chatter. It was such a contrast to her own mother’s crisp responses and small, rare smiles; she had seen Darcy’s face when she skilfully engaged his future mother-in-law’s attention, and she knew he was both grateful and embarrassed.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. It was almost tea time, and she knew Richard or someone or the other would be calling on her soon. Casting one last glance at the piles of fabric on her bed, she crossed the room and hesitated by the mirror. She was in a light, old lavender dress, a change from her regular black that made her realize how pale she had gotten, and how much weight she had lost. Diana had never been vain, but she had always known she was beautiful. Now, however, every time she looked in a mirror all she could think of was Rose, and how beautiful and young her friend looked. Diana looked and felt at least ten years older than her. Sighing, she grabbed a heavy shawl off the rack next to the mirror, draping it across her shoulders and making her way downstairs.

She had barely read a chapter when Rose was introduced by a footman. Her friend gave her a bright smile when she saw her.

“You look lovely!” she exclaimed, kissing her cheek and tugging her shawl off so she could see her dress. “Oh, I _have_ missed you in colours, but this is so old!”

“I haven’t had time to get new dresses made,” admitted Diana. Lips twitching, she extracted the shawl from Rose’s eager clutches and wrapped herself in it once more. “I did not expect you today.”

“Well, I did not come yesterday, so I thought I might drop by now. I know your mamma isn’t here, I saw your carriage outside the Fitzwilliams,” Rose shrugged and sat down opposite her, accepting a bowl of fresh fruit from Diana. “Are you still not speaking to her?”

Diana hesitated. She adored Rose, but the girl was still a girl: she was known to run her mouth, but despite her declarations of affection Diana knew she was genuinely too afraid of her to say anything inappropriate. Nevertheless, she could not bring herself to discuss her mother with anyone. Even Richard had tried, unsuccessfully, to get her to talk about it, but Diana had refused. The only reason Rose even knew what was wrong was because she dined with them often, and she had sensed the coldness between mother and daughter.

“We are the same as always, dear,” Diana threw her a quick smile and sipped her tea. “Tell me something new.”

Needing no further encouragement, Rose launched into the latest news and Diana hummed in agreement at all the appropriate times. She had almost forgotten what time it was until the footman returned and announced Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

Diana’s heart clenched, but on the surface she merely exchanged a look with Rose and raised her eyebrows, indicating to her friend that she was about to get her introduction. However, a closer glance at the other woman showed that she seemed uncharacteristically nervous. Diana had time only to offer her a half-hearted, comforting smile before Richard walked in.

He looked surprised to see her with company: she doubted he had ever walked in on her sitting with anyone on Wednesdays. However, he quickly bowed to Rose, murmuring a greeting. Diana stood up and offered her hand, which he took with a smile.

“This is my dear friend, Lady Rosalind Bertram,” she introduced, extracting her hand from his grip gently and indicating her friend. “You might have met her a few weeks ago, Richard. Rose, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”

“Indeed, I believe my mother introduced us,” Richard gave her a charming smile and bowed. “Very nice to see you again, my lady.”

“Likewise,” murmured Rose, sitting down and keeping her eyes on the floor. Diana felt like rolling her eyes: she had seen women do the meek act far too many times to take it seriously. She gestured for Richard to sit, only to realize he was staring at her with a strange expression in his eyes.

Fortunately, Rose had not noticed. Diana gave him a pointed look, raising her eyebrows questioningly. His eyes flickered to Rose and back to her, and she understood: he would tell her when they were alone.

They were silent for a few seconds before Diana launched into a discussion of Elizabeth and Darcy’s wedding, which was in a fortnight. Rose was slightly acquainted with Miss Bennet, and quickly asked Richard about her, effectively engaging him in conversation. As much as she wanted to do the opposite, Diana dutifully kept her answers to a minimum, steering the conversation as much towards Rose as she possibly could. She saw her friend shoot her grateful glances every time she did so, but inside she felt sick. Not only was it incredibly difficult for her to keep the attentions of a man she clearly wanted on another woman, but the attention that Richard gave her friend made her heart ache. She wanted to trust him again, she wanted to encourage him so he would look at her with the same amount of longing he had before she had insisted they be friends, but she knew she could not, at least not yet.

“What do you think, Diana?” it was not the first time in fifteen minutes Richard had asked her opinion: this time, it was on the new path being made through Hyde Park. Rose had mentioned she enjoyed walks in the morning.

Utterly clueless as to what it could have to do with her, Diana replied nevertheless. Perhaps he had noticed her silence. “I’m sure the paths will be very beneficial to early morning riders. You prefer walks, don’t you, dear?” she addressed Rose purposefully, ignoring the stab of guilt as she realized she was testing his newly-found attention towards her.

“And I believe you used to enjoy morning rides before you married,” commented Richard, not even waiting for Rose’s answer.

Diana blinked. He _had_ noticed her silence, and he was clearly trying to draw her out. What was more, it was true: she had often accompanied him, Emily and Henry – who had been courting at the time – on rides through the park. She was an excellent rider, but she doubted she had been on a horse in over a year. Amazed that he remembered, she merely nodded.

Something about her expression seemed to please Richard exceedingly. “You did not know her all those years ago,” he told Rose. His eyes glinted with mischief. “Her mother was absolutely furious at everything she did.”

And just like that, their banter resumed. “I’ll thank you not to exaggerate,” interjected Diana. “I was a perfect lady.”

Richard snorted. “I’m sure the men at Almack’s would disagree.”

“That was not my fault!” insisted Diana. “ _You_ told them all sorts of strange things, and I could not stand their questions.”

“I am still surprised you did not get banned from attending.”

“Your mother vouched for me,” informed Diana, narrowing her eyes at him. “Since her son was the reason I kept getting in such trouble.”

“Whatever happened?” asked Rose, finally managing to get a word in. She sounded amused, but also surprised. Diana felt guilty again. After all, she had never told her to what extent her and Richard had been acquainted.

“Your friend had a wonderful habit of hiding behind curtains so she would not have to dance,” said Richard, shooting Diana a sly smile. “Is that not true, my lady?”

“It was only twice, and that was because there was a ridiculous man who proposed to me every time I danced with him,” said Diana, rolling her eyes. “Hardly a scandal. I found at least three other girls hiding every time I was there.”

Richard turned to Rose. “And I assure you, it was often,” he looked at Diana again and shook his head. “My mother gave me grief every time you disappeared.”

“That is what you get for offering to baby-sit me!”

“A toddler would have been easier to handle!” Richard retorted, but his eyes were twinkling and Diana suddenly felt sixteen again. Her fists clenched. She wanted to punch him, just as she had in the early days of their friendship when he was being infuriating, but in a second the urge was gone and she was once again Lady Diana Herbert.

“You have clearly never looked after a toddler, then,” she sipped her tea, willing herself not to snort. “I assure you, I was a perfect dream,” she addressed Rose. “What were you saying about the Persian rugs you saw at Lady Heydan’s house?”

Rose answered her question, but her eyes kept flickering to Richard, who had gotten up from his seat and was walking around the room, taking in the watercolours on the walls. Diana knew he recognized some of the pieces she had completed years ago.

“Do you appreciate art, Colonel?” asked Rose when there was a lull in the conversation, getting up from her seat and joining him as he admired a painting near the fireplace. It was one of Diana’s best, done in watercolours of her home in Devon, all from memory. Already his conversation had clearly told her that they were far better acquainted than she had realized, and though her friend’s spirits were slightly dampened, she had by no means given up.

“I appreciate the artist more than the work itself, I am afraid, my lady,” he did not look at her. “It is very well done, Diana.”

“Oh, thank you,” Diana was not surprised he had recognized her hand, but she was surprised by the compliment.

“You made these?” Rose sounded incredulous. “I had no idea!”

“I’ve never been very good,” admitted Diana.

“She’s always been excellent.” Richard did not even glance at her.

Diana frowned. Richard was always charming, but his constant attention was strange, even if it was directed at her. His compliments were going to get them both in trouble. “You are too kind, Colonel.”

Richard snorted. “Again with the Colonel nonsense. You’d think knowing someone since they were practically children would warrant some sort of familiarity, wouldn’t you agree, Lady Rosalind?” he threw his last remark at Rose, but it was clearly meant for Diana.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rose sounded slightly confused. “Diana has always been very proper. I suppose you must not take it personally.”

“I don’t,” he winked at her, and Diana’s grip on her cup tightened.

She was saved from answering, though, when a footman suddenly entered the room and bowed, but headed towards Richard instead. “Urgent message, sir,” he said stiffly. “A messenger arrived at Fitzwilliam House but was told you were here.”

“Thank you,” Richard accepted the dispatch and broke the seal easily, scanning the message quickly. His expression did not change, but his eyes hardened, and the hand that was not holding the letter clenched into a fist. His eyes flickered up, meeting Diana’s for an instant, and she immediately knew something was wrong.

And Richard knew that she had seen right through him. However, he gave her no chance to respond. He merely turned to Rose and bowed. “It has been lovely to meet you again, my lady, but I fear I must depart. My brother demands my attention,” he gave her another smile, but it did not reach his eyes. He was still smiling when he crossed the room towards Diana, though it was warmer now. “I have to go away for a while,” his voice was low so that Rose would not hear. “But I will be back in time to take you and your mother to Darcy’s wedding.”

“Where are you going?” demanded Diana. She made to stand up, but Richard gripped her hand harder and forced her to stay still. “Richard, what on earth –”

“It is nothing,” he assured her quickly. “Emily will be in to see you next week if I cannot make it. I will see you soon,” he hesitated, then merely pressed his lips to her hand and let go, taking two steps back and bowing formally before striding out of the room.

Diana barely heard Rose murmur her goodbyes and leave a minute later. Her head was still spinning. Something very, very bad had just happened.


End file.
